I borrowed his brightness and used it to see my way, and then gradually, from the habit of looking at the world as he illuminated it, the light in my own mind rekindled.
Geraldine BrooksRead
Sydney in the 1960s wasn't the exuberant multicultural metropolis it is today. Out in the city's western reaches, days passed in a sun-struck stupor. In the evenings, families gathered on their verandas waiting for the 'southerly buster' - the thunderstorm that would break the heat and leave the air cool enough to allow sleep.
Interpretation
The quote depicts a nostalgic view of Sydney in the 1960s, highlighting a simpler, slower-paced life focused on family and nature.
This quote illustrates a snapshot of life in Sydney during the 1960s, marked by a sense of tranquility and community. It captures the everyday experiences of families as they gathered on their verandas to escape the heat and wait for the refreshing storm. The imagery evokes a simpler time when life was lived more outdoors, and the natural environment played a significant role in daily routines.
In practice
During a discussion about urban development, one might reference this quote to illustrate how cities change over time.
I borrowed his brightness and used it to see my way, and then gradually, from the habit of looking at the world as he illuminated it, the light in my own mind rekindled.
...The hagaddah came to Sarajevo for a reason. It was here to test us, to see if there were people who could see that what united us was more than what divided us. That to be a human being matters more than to be a Jew or a Muslim, Catholic or Orthodox. p. 361
Men can absent themselves from real life for their art more easily. Women are anchored into the quotidian business of getting food on the table, making sure everybody's socks match, the soccer gear is ready. I admire idealists, but they're usually enabled by someone who holds the tether on their balloon, who pays the bills and sweeps up after them.
The Sarajevans have a very particular world view - a mordant wit coupled with this unbearable sadness and... truckloads of guts, you know.
The thing that most attracts me to historical fiction is taking the factual record as far as it is known, using that as scaffolding, and then letting imagination build the structure that fills in those things we can never find out for sure.
Every birthday, you decide whether to mark it the end of your greatest days or the beginning of your finest hour.
Now for a good twelve-hour sleep, I told myself. Twelve solid hours. Let birds sing, let people go to work. Somewhere out there, a volcano might blow, Israeli commandos might decimate a Palestinian village. I couldn't stop it. I was going to sleep.
That's the first thing you learn when you busk in the New York City subways: you immediately join the ranks of the marginalized, the unhinged prophets, the Christian shouters, the Hare Krishnas, the Jehovah's witnesses, the father-and-daughter kitaro team, the violinists playing for their sickly wives.
A long life may not be good enough, but a good life is long enough.
Life is too short, and the time we waste in yawning never can be regained.
Armed and dangerous, ain't too many can bang with us_x000D_ _x000D_ Straight up weed no angel dust, label us Notorious_x000D_ _x000D_ Thug ass niggaz that love to bust, it's strange to us_x000D_ _x000D_ Y'all niggaz be scramblin, gamblin_x000D_ _x000D_ Up in restaraunts with mandolins, and violins_x000D_ _x000D_ We just sittin here tryin to win, tryin not to sin_x000D_ _x000D_ High off weed and lots of gin_x000D_ _x000D_ So much smoke need oxygen, steadily countin them Benjamins
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