She watched him. And then she took up a fragment of mirror and tied it to the top of the post.Once upon a time such a universe was considered unusual and, possibly, impossible.But then... it used to be so simple, once upon a time.
Pratchett Witches Abroad Full Of IgnoranceBecause the universe was full of ignorance all around and the scientist panned through it like a prospector crouched over a mountain stream, looking for the gold of knowledge among the gravel of unreason, the sand of uncertainty and the little whiskery eight-legged swimming things of superstition.Occasionally he would straighten up and say things like Hurrah, Ive discovered Boyles Third Law. But the trouble was that ignorance became more interesting, especially big fascinating ignorance about huge and important things like matter and creation, and people stopped patiently building their little houses of rational sticks in the chaos of the universe and started getting interested in the chaos itself - partly because it was a lot easier to be an expert on chaos, but mostly because it made really good patterns that you could put on a t-shirt. And instead of getting on with proper science scientists suddenly went around saying how impossible it was to know anything, and that there wasnt really anything you could call reality to know anything about, and how all this was tremendously exciting, and incidentally did you know there were possibly all these little universes all over the place but no-one can see them because they are all curved in on themselves Incidentally, dont you think this is a rather good t-shirt Compared to all this, a large turtle with a world on its back is practically mundane. At least it doesnt pretend it doesnt exist, and no-one on the Discworld ever tried to prove it didnt exist in case they turned out to be right and found themselves suddenly floating in empty space. This is because the Discworld exists right on the edge of reality. Download yugioh gx sub indo mp4Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, Stories, great flapping ribbons of shaped space-time, have been blowing and uncoiling around the universe since the beginning of time. The weakest have died and the strongest have survived and they have grown fat on the retelling... And their very existence overlays a faint but insistent pattern on the chaos that is history. Stories etch grooves deep enough for people to follow in the same way that water follows certain paths down a mountainside. And every time fresh actors tread the path of the story, the groove runs deeper. This is called the theory of narrative causality and it means that a story, once started, takes a shape. It picks up all the vibrations of all the other workings of that story that have ever been. A thousand wolves have eaten grandmother, a thousand princesses have been kissed. A million unknowing actors have moved, unknowing, through the pathways of story. ![]() All that matters is that the story gets told, that the story repeats. I2 analyst notebook for macOr, if you prefer to think of it like this: stories are a parasitical life form, warping lives in the service only of the story itself. It takes a special kind of person to fight back, and become the bicarbonate of history. Once upon a time... Grey hands gripped the hammer and swung it, striking the post so hard that it sank a foot into the soft earth. From the trees around the clearing the snakes and birds watched silently. In the swamp the alligators drifted like patches of bad-assed water. Grey hands took up the crosspiece and fixed it in place, tying it with creepers, pulling them so tight that they creaked.
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