Mention611330
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| so:text | How strange it is, he thought, how so many senseless things shape our destiny. For the rifle range had been a senseless thing, as senseless as a billiard table or a game of cards — designed for one thing only, to please the keeper of the station. And yet the hours he'd spent there had shaped toward this hour and end, to this single instant on this restricted slope of ground. (en) |
| so:isPartOf | https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Clifford_D._Simak |
| so:description | Way Station (1963) (en) |
| qkg:hasContext | qkg:Context300974 |
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Triples where Mention611330 is the object (without rdf:type)
| qkg:Quotation579560 | qkg:hasMention |
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