There's no such things as survival of the fittest. Survival of the most adequate, maybe. It doesn't matter whether a solution's optimal. All that matters is whether it beats the alternative.
The Zodiac had rearranged itself into a precise grid of bright points with luminous tails. It was as though the whole planet had been caught in some great closing net, the knots of its mesh aglow with St. Elmo's fire. It was beautiful. It was terrify...
Thanks to a vampire and a boatload of freaks and an invading alien horde, I’m Human again.
I know your race and mine are never on the best of terms." There was a cold smile in his voice if not on his face. "But I do only what you force me to. You rationalize, Keeton. You defend. You reject unpalatable truths, and if you can't reject them o...
People aren't rational. We're not thinking machines, we're - we're feeling machines that happen to think.
got intimacy issues these days, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He must have; the population had been dropping for decades.
You can’t see why anyone wouldn’t want to wallow in the sheer beauty of .
You can’t turn a sunset into a string of grunts without losing something.
The most altruistic and sustainable philosophies fail before the brute brain stem imperative of self-interest.
She attractive, but so was everyone in this kind of light; the longer the wavelength, the softer the focus. There’s a reason fuckcubbies don’t come with fluorescent lights.
Property damage is so much easier to live with than murder.
Perfect hexagonal tubes in a packed array. Bees are hard-wired to lay them down, but how does an insect know enough geometry to lay down a precise hexagon? It doesn't. It's programmed to chew up wax and spit it out while turning on its axis, and that...
I visited blathernodes, soaked myself in other people's opinions.
Perfection’s unattainable but it isn’t unapproachable.
What's the survival value of obsessing on a sunset?
If the rest of your brain were conscious, it would probably regard you as the pointy-haired boss from Dilbert
Radar is too long in the tooth for fine detail.
After four thousand years we can’t even prove that reality exists beyond the mind of the first-person dreamer.
My genes done gone and tricked my brain By making fucking feel so great That's how the little creeps attain Their plan to fuckin' replicate But brain's got tricks itself, you see To get the bang but not the bite I got this here vasectomy My genes can...
Stars, everywhere. So many stars that I could not for the life me understand how the sky could contain them all yet be so black.
But then I remembered: the universe was closed, and so very small. There was really nowhere else to go.
