Saturn's Children

by Charles Stross

At least I’ll make a pretty corpse, I tell myselves. Until I melt.

Live through all your deaths

Live through all your deaths.

(We even drink aqueous solutions of ethanol, though not for the same reasons.)

The dirty truth - A truth universally acknowledged today, but bizarrely never admitted by any of my True Love’s kind - is that space travel is shit.

My One True Love’s species used to dream about space travel. It’s ironic: They were so badly designed for it

although I am unconvinced that I desire life, I am not yet ready to embrace death.