May 16, 2016

The Dark Forest

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jared @ 9:15 am

Without the fear of heights, there can be no appreciation for the beauty of high places.

Cixin Liu, The Dark Forest

April 5, 2016

Witches Abroad

Filed under: Bits of books — Jared @ 5:20 pm

Most people, on waking up, accelerate through a quick panicky pre-consciousness check-up: who am I, where am I, who is he/she, good god, why am I cuddling a policeman’s helmet, what happened last night?

And this is because people are riddled by Doubt. It is the engine that drives them through their lives. It is the elastic band in the little model aeroplane of their soul, and they spend their time winding it up until it knots.

Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

January 2, 2016

The Waste Lands

Filed under: Bits of books — Jared @ 4:49 pm

Susannah found herself remembering the time she had asked her father, a quiet but deeply cynical man, if he believed there was a God in heaven who guided the course of human events. Well, he had said, I think it’s sort of half ‘n half, Odetta. I’m sure there’s a God, but I don’t think He has much if anything to do with us these days; I believe that after we killed His son, He finally got it through His head that there wasn’t nothing to be done with the sons of Adam or the daughters of Eve, and He washed His hands of us. Wise fella.

Stephen King, The Waste Lands

October 14, 2015

The Wind in the Willows

Filed under: Bits of books — Jared @ 11:13 am

By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spellbound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.

Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

Awaking in New York

Filed under: Bits of books — Jared @ 11:06 am

Curtains forcing their will
against the wind,
children sleep,
exchanging dreams with
seraphim. The city
drags itself awake on
subway straps; and
I, an alarm, awake as a
rumor of war,
lie stretching into dawn,
unasked and unheeded.

Maya Angelo, Awaking in New York

August 17, 2015

Filed under: status — Jared @ 8:20 am

July 27, 2015

The Year of The Flood

Filed under: Bits of books — Jared @ 3:22 pm

There was a close-up of her dead face, looking more gentle and peaceful than I’d ever seen her look in life. Maybe that was the real Bernice, I thought — kind and innocent. Maybe she was truly like that inside, and all the fighting we used to do and all her sharp and unpleasant edges — that was her way of struggling to get out of the hard skin she’d grown all over herself like a beetle shell. But no matter how she hit out and raged, she’d been stuck in there. That thought made me feel so sorry for her that I cried.

Margaret Atwood, The Year of The Flood

June 18, 2015


Filed under: Bits of books — Jared @ 2:18 pm

For all its beauty, honesty, and effectiveness at improving the human condition, science demands a terrible price—that we accept what experiments tell us about the universe, whether we like it or not. It’s about consensus and teamwork and respectful critical argument, working with, and through, natural law. It requires that we utter, frequently, those hateful words—“I might be wrong.” On the other hand, magic is what happens when we convince ourselves something is, even when it isn’t. Subjective Truth, winning over mere objective fact. The will, triumphing over all else. No wonder, even after the cornucopia of wealth and knowledge engendered by science, magic remains more popular, more embedded in the human heart.

David Brin, Existence

December 8, 2014


Filed under: Bits of books — Jared @ 2:03 pm

She has no real idea of Outside. She has never watched television, never stood in a bread line, never seen a crack den or a slasher movie. She cannot define napalm, or political torture, or neutron bomb, or gang rape. To her, Mamie, with her confused and self-justifying fear, represents the height of cruelty and betrayal; Peter, with his shambling embarrassed lewdness, the epitome of danger; the theft of a chicken, the last word in criminality. She has never heard of Auschwitz, Cawnpore, the Inquisition, gladiatorial games, Nat Turner, Pol Pot, Stalingrad, Ted Bundy, Hiroshima, My Lai, Wounded Knee, Babi Yar, Bloody Sunday, Dresden or Dachau. Raised with a kind of mental inertia, she knows nothing of the savage inertia of destruction, that once set in motion in a civilization is as hard to stop as a disease.

Nancy Kress, Inertia

November 13, 2014

Bridge of Birds

Filed under: Bits of books — Jared @ 8:24 am

“Error can point the way to truth, while empty-headedness can only lead to more empty-headedness or to a career in politics.”

Barry Hughart, Bridge of Birds

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