Sunday, November 4, 2012
The Tim Machine
I have no idea where I got this or how long I've had it or if it even belongs to me. This edition was printed in 1988 and this copy is in perfect condition. I don't think it has ever been opened, much less read.The only guess I can make is that I bought it for a grad school class on literature and film. It's possible that this book was listed on the syllabus but not used or that it was used and I never got around to reading it. I'd say that is the most likely explanation. It's the best I can muster this morning.
from The Time Machine
The Time Traveller (for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter to us. His grey eyes shone and twinkled, and his usually pale face was flushed and animated. The fire burned brightly, and the soft radiance of the incandescent lights in the lilies of silver caught the bubbles that flashed and passed in our glasses. Our chairs, being his patents, embraced and caressed us rather than submitted to be sat upon, and there was that luxurious after-dinner atmosphere when thought roams gracefully free of the trammels of precision. And he put it to us in this way - marking the points with a lean forefinger - as we sat and lazily admired his earnestness over this new paradox (as we thought it:) and his fecundity.