We are very short on organs, and the pig solution is probably a lot better than the human clone solution - though maybe not for the pigs.

After everything that's happened, how can the world still be so beautiful? Because it is.

Good writing takes place at intersections, at what you might call knots, at places where the society is snarled or knotted up.

All it takes,” said Crake, “is the elimination of one generation. One generation of anything. Beetles, trees, microbes, scientists, speakers of French, whatever. Break the link in time between one generation and the next, and it’s game over forever.

A wave of blood goes up to my head, my stomach shrinks together, as if something dangerous has just missed hitting me. It's as if I've been caught stealing, or telling a lie; or as if I've heard other people talking about me, saying bad things about me, behind my back. There's the same flush of shame, of guilt and terror, and of cold disgust with myself. But I don't know where these feelings have come from, what I've done.

Nevertheless, blood is thicker than water, as anyone knows who has tasted both.

Once a month I wake in the night, slippery with terror. I'm afraid, not because there's someone in the room, in the dark, in the bed, but because there isn't. I'm afraid of the emptiness, which lies beside me like a corpse.