Our machines are disturbingly lively, and we ourselves frighteningly inert.

Myth and tool mutually constitute each other.

In a sense, a cyborg has no origin story in the Western sense – a ‘final’ irony since the cyborg is also the awful apocalyptic telos of the ‘West’s’ escalating dominations of abstract individuation, an ultimate self untied at last from all dependency, a man in space.

Cyborg writing must not be about the Fall, the imagination of a once-upon-a-time wholeness before language, before writing, before Man. Cyborg writing is about the power to survive, not on the basis of original innocence, but on the basis of seizing the tools to mark the world that marked them as other...

Single vision produces worse illusions than double vision or many-headed monsters.

I’d rather be a cyborg than a goddess.

The cyborg would not recognize the garden of Eden; it is not made of mud and cannot dream of returning to dust.