Phrase by 'Timothy Morton'

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Everything is a railway junction where past and future are sliding over one another, not touching.

Author: Timothy Morton - English Philosopher
  Everything , Past , Future , Railway


Nothingness is not nothing at all, so it is physical, but not in the sense of constant presence. Nothingness is disturbing. It is there in a mind-independent sense; it is part of what is given.

Author: Timothy Morton - English Philosopher
  Nothing , Sense , Presence , Nothingness


Am I simply a vehicle for numerous bacteria that inhabit my microbiome? Or are they hosting me?

Author: Timothy Morton - English Philosopher
  Me , Hosting , Simply , Vehicle


'Humankind' is an attempt to think the human species without Nature and without humanity.

Author: Timothy Morton - English Philosopher
  Think , Nature , Without , Humanity


The ideal job letter starts with a brilliant light. Then we realize that this brilliant light is actually sunlight, shafts of it, pouring through trees onto a thick bed of pine needles. Soft dusty resin floats in the sun shafts, invitingly. The smell of pine and sap rises from the forest floor. A twig snaps underfoot.

Author: Timothy Morton - English Philosopher
  Forest , Job , Light , Sun


The waste products in Earth's crust are also the human in this expanded, spectral sense. One's garbage doesn't go 'away' - it just goes somewhere else.

Author: Timothy Morton - English Philosopher
  Go , Earth , Garbage , Somewhere


Beauty doesn't have to be in accord with prefabricated concepts of 'pretty.'

Author: Timothy Morton - English Philosopher
  Pretty , Beauty , Concepts , Accord


The present is haunted by the X-present. I call this manifold of present and X-present 'nowness': a shifting, haunted region like evaporating mist; a region can't be tied to a specific timescale.

Author: Timothy Morton - English Philosopher
  Like , Present , Haunted , Mist


I grew up in a haunting postindustrial landscape where prehistoric ferns grew among tens of railway tracks surmounted by brilliant arc lights where birds nested and sang in the dead of night, because for them, it was day.

Author: Timothy Morton - English Philosopher
  Day , Night , Dead , Lights


The Severing is a catastrophe: an event that does not take place 'at' a certain 'point' in linear time, but a wave that ripples out in many dimensions, and in whose wake we are caught.

Author: Timothy Morton - English Philosopher
  Time , Place , Out , Wave


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