rage-space

(Skilled maintainers advise never trying to solve a new or complex problem without a thorough mulling first.)

The darkest things are the hungriest and they’ll eat what shines.

"having" something is an artificial notion. it's a judgment call

Who was it who said, uh, "even if life is forever, each moment of it is a miracle?" I think that's just something we tell ourselves. We're just ordinary and forever, I think.

"Even if man is indeed capable of anything, he surely cannot achieve it in just any way. He will eventually achieve every goal if he so desires, but he will understand before that that the price he would have to pay for achieving such a goal would reduce this goal to absurdity."

This universe was not planned as a comfortable home for humans.

"The Earth rushing through the emptiness of space, spinning on its axis, but you don’t feel it. For to feel it is to be scared and happy at once and to know that nothing matters but that you do what you do and what you do you are. And I felt it, and I knew I was moving into the future. There is no past anybody can get to, to alter things or even to know for sure what they were, but there is definitely a future, we are already in it."

“Nothing in life, I think, ordinarily happens in great, thunderous episodes of obvious and dramatic force. Life is a series of small things, and most of them mean much or little depending on how the observer thinks of them.”

Everything is public now, potentially: one’s thoughts, one’s photos, one’s movements, one’s purchases. There is no privacy and apparently little desire for it in a world devoted to non-stop use of social media. Every minute, every second, has to be spent with one’s device clutched in one’s hand. Those trapped in this virtual world are never alone, never able to concentrate and appreciate in their own way, silently. They have given up, to a great extent, the amenities and achievements of civilization: solitude and leisure, the sanction to be oneself, truly absorbed, whether in contemplating a work of art, a scientific theory, a sunset, or the face of one’s beloved.