If it [the universe] was expanding fairly slowly, the force of gravity would cause it eventually to stop expanding and then to start contracting. However, if it was expanding at more than a certain critical rate, gravity would never be strong enough to stop it, and the universe would continue to expand forever.
We don't have a choice in how or when our bad days will blindside us. but what we do choose is how we allow them to leave us once they're gone. you can use those moments as a catalyst to spur you on to greater things or you can let it be the event that breaks you and leaves you shattered and forever lost in darkness.
Of course, there are those critics - new york critics as a rule - who say, 'well, maya angelou has a new book out and of course it's good but then she's a natural writer.' those are the ones i want to grab by the throat and wrestle to the floor because it takes me forever to get it to sing. I work at the language.
When i looked at the painting i felt the same convergence on a single point: a flickering sun-struck instance that existed now and forever. Only occasionally did i notice the chain on the finch's ankle, or think what a cruel life for a little living creature - fluttering briefly, forced always to land in the same hopeless place.