In my writing I even question the universe; I wonder out loud if it is real, and I wonder out loud if all of us are real.

Giving me a a new idea is like handing a cretin a gun, but I do thank you anyhow, bang bang.

What constitutes the authentic human being?

No structure, even an artificial one, enjoys the process of entropy. It is the ultimate fate of everything, and everything resists it.

A human being without the proper empathy or feeling is the same as an android built so as to lack it, either by design or mistake. We mean, basically, someone who does not care about the fate which his fellow living creatures fall victim to; he stands detached, a spectator, acting out by his indifference John Donne's theorem that "No man is an island," but giving that theorem a twist: that which is a mental and a moral island is not a man.

I'm tired and I want to rest; I want to get out of this and go lie down somewhere, off where it's dark and no one speaks. Forever.

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