Word: borderlands
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...British child-humorists (Charles Lamb, Charles Kingsley, W. S. Gilbert, James Barrie, Edward Lear) who "have all been to the Never Never Land at the Back of the North Wind, to the Snow Queen's country - to the edge of insanity, [and fetched] a treasure from the borderland for readers who are too busy or too timid to explore for them selves the cold, dark, lonely places of the spirit...
...Arthur, a devout Quaker, lifelong teetotaler and bachelor, more philosopher than scientist, devoted his speculations mostly to the borderland between science and religion. Interested in the questions that science could not answer, he once remarked: "What do we really observe? Relativity theory has returned one answer-we only observe relations. Quantum theory returns another answer-we only observe probabilities...
When he showed a subject a flickering light, his brain-broadcasting instrument recorded flickering electrical impulses of the same frequency. This experiment revealed "an interesting borderland" between the visual area and the rest of the brain - the image spread out over a wider area, into parts of the brain not primarily concerned with sight. Dr. Adrian suggests that this spreading activity in the brain represents the reaction of the brain cells to the image, i.e., an approach to thinking. But his recordings of this complex process are so confusing and difficult to interpret that "the present technique of recording brain...
...defenders of India are doubtless aware by now that nature and geography are uncertain allies. It was once an accepted fact that the mountainous borderland between Burma and India was impassable to armies-that the only practical route to India was by sea and air. Yet refugees from Burma filtered through those same mountains, 1,000 and more a day. The mountains which overlap eastern Burma and Siam were also supposed to be well-nigh impassable. Last week Japanese tanks from Siam wormed through the lower ranges, in dark prediction of what they may do on the road to India...
...many of its correspondences, dreams, and borderland apprehensions of a bottomless past, this book has the gooseflesh resonance of a well-made poem, full of dim, sentient suggestions of a religious fatality. Its whole treatment is somber, muted, ardent. As a confused, cryptic painting-a portrait of a personal absorption rather than a public communication -it is moving. Yet, within its arbitrary framework, it convincingly clarifies nothing about destiny...