Fractal Noise (Fractalverse, #0)

by Christopher Paolini

for those who have stared into the abyss during the small hours of the night.

’Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch. —CHAIM STERN

A life should have weight. Old or young, it would have seemed wrong for a person’s ashes to be too light.

Perfection implied seriousness of purpose, and there were only a few purposes that seemed likely: to pursue scientific research, to help fend off some existential threat, to fulfill a religious need, or to serve as a piece of art. The last two options were the most frightening. Any species that could afford to expend that amount of resources on what amounted to a nonessential project would be able to destroy every human settlement with ease, Earth included. Perfection, then, was a warning to heed.

Sometimes the universe decided to rip apart your life and stomp on the pieces, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it except say, “Now what?”

The knot of tension in his gut remained as tight as ever, but with it, he felt a gathering of determination. Some things were easier once you just … decided.

To have his path made clear for him is the aspiration of every human being in our beclouded and tempestuous existence. —JOSEPH CONRAD

“There’s a theory among neurobiologists and evolutionary researchers that the reason humans have a sense of beauty is because beauty is functional. At least, at some basic level.”

the technology of a truly advanced species might be indistinguishable from the natural forces of the universe, even as the acts and works of humans might appear to an ant or a worm.

Alex thought he was beginning to understand why so many religions started in the desert. The emptiness of the land did something to a person’s brain, focused it on the strangeness of one’s inner life.

To “know thyself” must mean to know the malignancy of one’s own instincts and to know, as well, one’s power to deflect it. —KARL A. MENNINGER