The Diamond Age

by Neal Stephenson

The universe was a disorderly mess, the only interesting bits being the organized anomalies.

like an opium addict squatting in the middle of a frenetic downtown street, blowing a reed of sweet smoke out between his teeth, staring into some ancient dream that all the bustling pedestrians had banished to unfrequented parts of their minds.

To the Equity Lords, the idea had been worth billions; to Hackworth, another week's paycheck. That was the difference between the classes, right there.

The difference lay in personality, not in native intelligence.

The internal, and eternal, struggle, between our base impulses and the rigorous demands of our own moral system is quintessentially human.

The difference between stupid and intelligent people—and this is true whether or not they are well-educated—is that intelligent people can handle subtlety. They are not baffled by ambiguous or even contradictory situations—in fact, they expect them and are apt to become suspicious when things seem overly straightforward.

Authority, even when it refrained from violence, could be as disturbing a specter

Hackworth was alone and separate from all humanity, a feeling he had grown up with, like a childhood friend living next door.

Seems familiar.

vast knowledge and skills, accumulated over a lifetime of intensive training, meant nothing at all when she was confronted with a handful of organized peasants.

Afghanistan much?