Lynn Levy

On my way to the workshop, I pass a haunted house. It's not October, not even close, so I'm pretty surprised to see scarecrows and plastic skeletons and—is that a hearse? Yes it is. It takes all my strength not to pull into the parking lot for a little off-season ...

Steve Axford’s photographs seem to come from a slightly enchanted place. It’s a place where the pale brown lumps I think of as "mushrooms" have been transformed into a host of strange new creatures—some shimmering, some translucent, some hairy, some hideous, but all magic.

...

John Conway paints pictures of old dead things. But he doesn't paint them like they're old and dead—he paints them like maybe they’re outside your window right now, looking at you.

NASA is reporting that Voyager 1 has finally left the heliosphere and is now cruising through interstellar space!

Few things have such power over us as blood.

Producer Lynn Levy is STILL waiting for one of the Voyager crafts to make interstellar history as the first human-made object to leave the solar system...

Cosmic laws are rewritten, and a spacecraft launched three decades ago races to become the first human-made object to leave the solar system.

I’ve never really wanted a house.  Whatever gene makes people crave white picket fences, stainless steel appliances and perfectly manicured lawns, I don’t have it. And OK, sure, there’s a little corner of my brain where I fantasize about the kind of built-in bookshelves that require a rolling ladder, but for the most part my dream house is just a safe place to sleep when I’m well and truly exhausted.

Typhoid, a disease forever associated with one woman: Typhoid Mary. You think you know this story, but the details reveal a troubling, very human story behind the anecdote.

Math can get pretty loopy, at least when we try to explain it.

This whole novel takes place in a few minutes, in a quiet room drenched with late-afternoon sun.  As the narrator of Room Temperature feeds his baby daughter, he lets his mind wander—and you get to wander with him, through tiny revelations about nose-picking and green dresses and childhood crimes and mobiles made of paint chips.

Why does selflessness exist?

Is there such a thing as a purely selfless deed--one with no hidden motives whatsoever?