Цитаты из книги Everfound

There is no wind in Everlost. At least none that occurs naturally. No nor’easters heralding winter, no gentle summer zephyrs. Even Everlost trees that rustle in the wind are only going through the motions, moving with the memory of a breeze long gone. That is not to say that Everlost has no atmosphere; it does. The air of Everlost is a direct result of the living, and is a blend of many things. The first breath of a baby and the last breath of a life well-lived. The charged air of anticipation that fills a stadium before the start of a game, and the electrified air of excitement when a band takes the concert stage-these all cross into Everlost. Every passage of gas that someone laughed at, every sigh offered up to a glorious sunset are here . . . but so are the screams of victims and the sobs of those who mourn. Not every breath, but every breath taken and expelled with purpose, be it good or bad, are not forgotten by the universe. These things all blend and make up the air that Afterlights occasionally choose to breathe; air rich with emotions and with memories not entirely lost.

“‘Love is the finest and foulest thing in the world. It will drive a man to greatness even while driving him into despair.’” Clarence proclaimed. “To quote the famous philosopher . . .” “Which famous philosopher?” asked Mikey. “If I knew, I would have told you.” Mikey knew both the fine and foul sides of love. It was his love of Allie that had lifted him up from darkness; letting him see a better way than the way of the monster. But once that love took hold, it also left a fear in him, which always lingered in the back of his mind, and made him intensely jealous. It was the fear of losing her. “Love turns a heart to crystal,” said Mikey. “Much more valuable, but much more fragile.” Clarence put down his bottle. “Who said that?” “I did,” said Mikey. “Just now.”

Quantum science says that all that we believe is solid is 99.99 percent empty space. It only seems solid because that’s what our senses are designed to tell us. Astrophysics says that 27 percent of the universe is dark matter. In other words, stuff that is measurably there, but for some reason no one can see it and no one knows where it is. Cosmic String Theory says that there aren’t just three dimensions, but that there are actually eleven—but most of them are unable to be perceived from where we sit, no matter how comfortable our chair is. And in the jagged coastline of Maine, people often have been known to say, “You can’t get there from here,” even when you can see the place right across the inlet. In short, there are mysteries of science and of soul that will never be understood no matter how hard we measure, no matter how strongly we believe, no matter how deep our think tanks and how high our aspirations. But as anyone will tell you—for we all know this within our hearts—the impossible happens and grand cosmic mysteries are solved on a regular basis, although most of the time the solutions lead to even greater mysteries. There is a place, however, where all the mysteries have been solved, and all the answers have been given, and there is nothing anywhere left to know. You can find it if you try, if you are true of heart, and strong of will, and know beyond all else that it is a world you wish to live in.

Nick shook his head. “He couldn’t have seen anything yet—the tunnel’s like an air lock. By the time you see what’s there, it’s too late to tell anyone.” “So the gods must mean something else,” said Jix. “God, not gods!” insisted Johnnie. Nick threw up his hands. “God, gods, or whatever,” said Nick. “Right now, it doesn’t matter whether it’s Jesus, or Kukulcan, or a dancing bear at the end of the tunnel. What matters is that we have a clue, and we have to figure it out.” “Why?” Johnnie asked again. “Why does God—excuse me, I mean ‘the Light of Universal Whatever’—why does it just give us a freakin’ impossible clue? Why can’t it just tell us what we’re supposed to do?” “Because,” said Mikey, “the Dancing Bear wants us to suffer.”