The Martian

by Andy Weir

Also, I have duct tape. Ordinary duct tape, like you buy at a hardware store. Turns out even NASA can’t improve on duct tape.

They say no plan survives first contact with implementation. I’d have to agree.

“I mean, come on!” Morris said. “What are the odds?” Chuck turned to him. “One in three, based on empirical data. That’s pretty bad if you think about it.”

“Astronauts are inherently insane. And really noble.

The planet’s famous red color is from iron oxide coating everything. So it’s not just a desert. It’s a desert so old it’s literally rusting.

Technically it’s “Carl Sagan Memorial Station.” But with all due respect to Carl, I can call it whatever the hell I want. I’m the King of Mars.

Turns out you can’t navigate by landmarks if you can’t find any god damned landmarks.

It’s a strange feeling. Everywhere I go, I’m the first. Step outside the rover? First guy ever to be there! Climb a hill? First guy to climb that hill! Kick a rock? That rock hadn’t moved in a million years!

“Brought product to surface of Mars. It stopped working. 0/10.”

“Jesus, what a complicated process,” Venkat said. “Try updating a Linux server sometime,” Jack said.

Duct tape is magic and should be worshiped.

Life is amazingly tenacious. They don’t want to die any more than I do.

The worst moments in life are heralded by small observations. The tiny lump on your side that wasn’t there before. Coming home to your wife and seeing two wineglasses in the sink. Anytime you hear “We interrupt this program …”

As with most of life’s problems, this one can be solved by a box of pure radiation.

I mostly watch crappy seventies TV. I’m indistinguishable from an unemployed guy for most of the day.

AS A chemist, Vogel knew how to make a bomb. In fact, much of his training was to avoid making them by mistake.

they did it because every human being has a basic instinct to help each other out.