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[…] [I]f suddenly Mexico and Israel went to war, on which side would I fight? My cowardly answer was plain and simple: “I really wasn’t cut out to be a soldier. So on neither one, since I’m a pacifist…
There was a mysterious jar on one of the shelves. It contained about twenty gray, hard, colorless, tasteless little rods and did not have a label. This was very strange, because it was a German…
“The comparative image of Natal’ia Rostova and Tat’iana Larina”—indeed, which one of them would have worked better on the Line?
The mid-1990s, the desert, a profitable little newly fledged factory on…