The magician seemed to promise that something torn to bits might be mended without a seam, that what had vanished might reappear, that a scattered handful of doves or dust might be reunited by a word, that a paper rose consumed by fire could be made to bloom from a pile of ash. But everyone knew that it was only an illusion. The true magic of this broken world lay in the ability of the things it contained to vanish, to become so thoroughly lost, that they might never have existed in the first place.
Michael Chabon, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
- nautilus: ...how did space begin?
- icarus: I hope it never did. just the brightest flash, over and over, in an infinite moment never seen; but by us... the lucky ones.