Things, events, that occupy space yet come to an end when someone dies make us stop in wonder - and yet one thing, or an infinite number of things, dies with every man's or woman's death, unless the universe itself has a memory, as theosophists have suggested. In the course of time there was one day that closed the last eyes that had looked on Christ; the battle of Junin and the love of Helen died with the death of one man. What will die with me the day I die? What pathetic or frail image will be lost to the world? The voice of Macedonio Fernandez, the image of a bay horse in a vacant lot on the corner of Sarrano and Charcas, a bar of sulfur in the drawer of a mahogany desk?
—from Collected Fiction, a book by Jorge Luis Borges
Active since January 13, 2017.
683 total characters in this text.
View Pit Stop page for this text
| Universe | Races | Average WPM | First Race |
|---|---|---|---|
| Default (English) | 16,039 | 96.39 | January 13, 2017 |
| Long Texts | 58 | 103.08 | January 1, 2017 |
| Instant Death Mode | 5 | 102.62 | December 19, 2018 |
| แ Stenography | 1 | 110.82 | January 29, 2022 |