Truth, she thought. As terrible as death. But harder to find.

How can days and happenings and moments so good become so quickly ugly, and for no reason, for no real reason? Just - change. With nothing causing it.

You're killing yourself with cynicism. Your idols got taken away from you one by one and now you have nothing to give your love to.

For each person there is a sentence—a series of words—which has the power to destroy them.

Empathy, he once had decided, must be limited to herbivores or anyhow omnivores who could depart from a meat diet. Because,ultimately, the empathic gift blurred the boundaries between hunter and victim, between the successful and the defeated.

I never liked the idea of doing what a machine says. I hate having to salute something built in a factory.

Are we to assist it in gaining power in order to save our lives? Is that the paradox of our earthly situation?