Ninety-five percent of the eggs produced in America come from factory-farmed birds. Even if free-range farms were hugely more humane, the sheer number of animals raised to satisfy people's desire for eggs, meat, and milk makes it impossible for us to...
I have been motivated by this idea since I was a kid that if we invented machines that were created in the way that people are - were aware, have free will, inventive machines, machines that would be geniuses - potentially, they could reinvent themse...
Joshua: They told me you were dead. Lilia: To all I loved, Joshua, I am dead. Joshua: Dathan? Lilia: Yes. Dathan. Joshua: Of your own free will? Lilia: My own free will. Joshua: You are no man's slave! The hour of deliverance has come! Lilia: Not for...
This revolution, the information revoultion, is a revolution of free energy as well, but of another kind: free intellectual energy. It's very crude today, yet our Macintosh computer takes less power than a 100-watt bulb to run it and it can save you ...
Here’s to a tasty lunch,” she says, winking at me. It’s the strangest thing, but I actually feel my body respond to her. Beneath their lace prison, my nipples harden and send a jolt of arousal across my midriff and down to my thighs. I take a l...
There was shish-kabob for lunch, huge, savory hunks of spitted meat sizzling like the devil over charcoal after marinating seventy-two hours in a secret mixture Milo had stolen from a crooked trader in the Levant, served with Iranian rice and asparag...
Osman and Prideep had been in my employment for some weeks. Every Friday I would take the to lunch. It was the high point of their calender. During the meal I would harangue them as a reminder of what they had been hired for: but my orations never se...
It’s one thing to protect yourself,” Dad yelled at me during our very next lunch. “That I get. Have I ever told you not to defend yourself? No. But did you have to permanently maim him? I spent all that money on that on that fancy school for gi...
They walked across 15th Street to the Madison Hotel's Montpelier Room, an opulent French restaurant. Bradlee asked for a corner table, and began the conversation. 'You'd better bring me up to date because...' He turned to order lunch in perfect Frenc...
I'm in self-imposed exile, cradled between split branches, in my favorite tree in the woods behind school. I've been coming here every day at lunch, hiding out until the bell rings, whittling words into the branches with my pen, allowing my heart to ...
There is only one thing a writer can write about: what is in front of his senses at the moment of writing... I am a recording instrument... I do not presume to impose “story” “plot” “continuity”... Insofar as I succeed in Direct recording...
Mothers of America let your kids go to the movies! get them out of the house so they won't know what you're up to it's true that fresh air is good for the body but what about the soul that grows in darkness, embossed by silvery images and when you gr...
It is the story that lies around the edges of the photographs, or at the end of newspaper account. It's about the lies we tell others to protect them, and about the lies we tell ourselves in order not to acknowledge what we can't bear: that we are al...
While lunch and conversation lasted roughly an hour, not at all a lot of time, I came away feeling like I’d known Zach for years. It was as if we’d grown up together and we’d been best friends since high school, which is ridiculous because in h...
Nice work," I commented drily. "How old was that littlest one? Five? Did she put up a terrible fight?" "I feared for my life," Zach said with a perfectly straight face. "You must be bored, Julia. You usually have a sharper sense of humor than that." ...
Can I join you at lunch?" She paused. "You have every other day." He laughed, a sound as musical as the chiming song of the lupine fey when they ran. "Yes. But you resented it every other day." "What makes you think I won't resent it today?" "Hope. I...
I had a dream about you. I walked by and you whistled like I was a piece of meat. And I was a piece of meat—I was a thin slice of ham. You were two pieces of bread, so we made love like most mothers make lunch for their kids. That sounded dirtier t...
The best compliment came from Knopf's Sonny Mehta. We were at lunch in New York with my editor, Gary Fisketjon, it was my first time meeting Sonny, and after ordering our food, he turned to me and said, 'Adam, I read 'Mr. Peanut' in two days; every p...
You don't buy poetry. (Neither do I.) Why? You cannot afford it? Bosh! You spend Editions de luxe on a thirsty friend. You can buy any one of the poetry bunch For the price you pay for a business lunch. Don't you suppose that a hungry head, Like an e...
Too Busy I've folded all my laundry and put it in the drawer. I've changed my linen, made my bed, and swept my bedroom floor. I've emptied out the garbage and fixed tomorrow's lunch. I've baked some cookies for dessert and given dad a munch. I've sea...
This book (Jarod Kintz's book) is trash. I mean, I assume it is, because that's where I found it while scrounging for lunch. However, I must admit that I haven't read it. I would have, but I am homeless, mainly due to my illiteracy (though Big Govern...
