Sentences with phrase «too near the sun»

Not too near the sun's heat, not too far from its warmth, in a narrow habitable zone in which water is liquid and life can thrive.

Not exact matches

Remember that a cabinet near the oven is often too warm, as is a cabinet on an outside wall of your kitchen if it receives heat from a strong afternoon or summer sun.

7 p.m., Miami Heat (23 - 9) vs. Indiana Pacers (20 - 14), Sun Sports, Fox Sports Indiana: These two met last year in the Eastern Conference semifinals, with the Pacers taking a 2 - 1 lead behind stout defense that held Miami to only 75 points in two straight games.The Heat didn't take too kindly to that, with LeBron James dropping a 40 point, 18 - rebound, nine assist near triple - double followed two games later by 40 points and 10 assists by Dwyane Wade.

But Parkinson had flown too near to the sun to ever recover from such a very public fall.

Both Sedna and 2012 VP113 were found near their closest approach to the Sun, but they both have orbits that go out to hundreds of AU, at which point they would be too faint to discover.

When summer sun shines a wee bit too bright on you, it's time to hit the nearest water park or if you're lucky, the beach.

But also a witness to Man's hubris, and ability to fly too near to the sun.

Well, it's taken SEGA 17 years to realise it, but it seems they too have caught on to the fanbase's near - constant clamouring for Big to have his own game — the cries of derision when they instead announced Shadow would be having a starring role in 2005 still echo in one's ears — as today has seen the release of Big's Big Fishing Adventure 3 for essentially every system under the sun.

, 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 know this is asking a bunch, but distance wise, approximately how many km nearer the sun would be too close (uninhabitable heat) and how many km farther from the sun (uninhabitable cold).

And our fish seem so happy near the sun, too!