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He suddenly wished, feverishly, for the opportunity to brush his shoulder against Gideon’s, or to nudge him with his knee. What was that they said, about people who had lived through extraordinary loss missing the ordinary? The little things, the trifling reassurances that made up their primary language. The culture of their own tiny nation, which had recently withstood some bombs.
knowledge is carnage, you can’t have it without sacrifice—ringing
Death, death is what makes us what we are, which is alive. Mortality, those clever little brackets. Births and deaths, beginnings and ends.
“We’ve progressed to another new generation, one where humans are no longer at the whims of the elements, but the shapers of them, the determiners.”
“I believed the universe was completely random, and that’s what eluded us. Because we all want to believe we are fundamental in some way. We are our own myths, our own legends. We give things reason. We are reasonable creatures and so everything must have its place, its purpose—but we are also egotistical creatures, and so we give ourselves reasons that don’t exist.”