As a writer, I am a vessel. When an idea pours into me, I have to write it down.

When Deepa poured Bela some water from the urn that stood on a little stool, in the corner of the room, her grandmother reproached her.  Not that water. Give her the boiled water. She’s not made to survive here.

Reminds us that greatness lies even in the smallest of moments, in the humblest of hearts, and we shall, each of us, be called to greatness. Whether we shall rise to meet it or let it slip away is the challenge put before us all.

At all events, thanks to the work of Clair Patterson, by 1953 the Earth at last had an age everyone could agree on.

Written By Bill Bryson

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