Sentences with phrase «rocks of the same age»

Following the discovery of volcanic rocks of the same age as the extinction, volcanic carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions had previously been suggested as an important contributor to this extinction event.

His team compared those data to Burgess's precise carbon ages from Chinese rocks of the same age.

Not exact matches

Rocks within the Iron Range property boundaries are of the same age and composition as those which host the Sullivan deposit, located 70 km to the east.

While I would not choose to rock climb with my child on my back, I also wouldn't nurse my child until age 5 or have him / her sleep in the same bed with me until age 5 or allow him / her to eat fast food or a lot of other actions that other parents might do.

This project focuses on the paleontology of some of oldest dinosaur - bearing rocks in Alberta and the neighbouring rocks of northern Montana that are of the same age.

Both species were discovered in rocks of the same geological age and lived in similar environments dominated by dinosaurs.

I gather from some of your posts that you are almost the same age as me (maybe you are a year younger, which is annoying)... but I will totally rock the leopard pants when I'm (we) are 80 because leopard is a «neutral».

It's Tom Cruise as a muscular rock god in the upcoming ROCK OF AGES, a film based on the Broadway musical of the samrock god in the upcoming ROCK OF AGES, a film based on the Broadway musical of the samROCK OF AGES, a film based on the Broadway musical of the same.OF AGES, a film based on the Broadway musical of the same.of the same...

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

I was fascinated to see the different ways music fans aged: from the ones who were still rocking the same look they had in the»70s to the ones who'd decided to embrace the Hush Puppies years (and the couples where there was one of each!).