There are some things you can simply look up, such as:
The size of Greenland, the dates of the famous 19th century rubber wars, Persian adjectives, the composition of snow.
And other things you just have to guess at.
And another way to look at time is this:
There was an old married couple and they had always hated each other, never been able to stand the sight of each other, really.
And when they were in their nineties, they finally got divorced.
And people said: Why did you wait so long? Why didn′t you do this a whole lot earlier?
And they said: Well, we wanted to wait until the children died.
Ah, America. And yes that will be America.
A whole new place just waiting to happen.
Broken up parking lots, rotten dumps, speed balls, accidents and hesitations.
Things left behind. Styrofoam, computer chips.
And Jim and John, oh, they were there.
And Carol, too. Her hair pinned up in that weird beehive way she loved so much.
And Greg and Phil moving at the pace of summer.
And Uncle Al, who screamed all night in the attic.
Yes, something happened to him in the war they said, over in France.
And France had become something they never mentioned. Something dangerous.
Yeah, some were sad to see those days disappear.
The flea markets and their smells, the war.
All the old belongings strewn out on the sidewalks.
Mildewed clothes and old resentments and ragged record jackets.
And meanwhile all over town, checks are bouncing and accounts are being automatically closed.
And everyone's counting and comparing and predicting.
Will it be the best of times, will it be the worst of times, or will it just be another one of those times?
And ah, this world, which like Kierkegaard said, can only be understood when lived backwards.
Which would entail an incredible amount of planning and confusion.
And then there are those big questions always in the back of your mind.
Things like: Are those two people over there actually my real parents?
Should I get a second Prius?
And you know the reason I really love the stars is that we cannot hurt them.
We can't burn them or melt them or make them overflow. We can′t flood them or blow them up or turn them out.
But we are reaching for them.
We are reaching for them.
And oh, my brothers. And oh, my sisters.
They flow and then they flow. They come, they fade, they go and they go.
No way to know exactly when they start or when their time is up.