Imagination runs out. But it makes sense, right? We probably just imagine things based on what we already know, and we run out of analogies in the thirty-first century.

So I guess you could say Neel owes me a few favors, except that so many favors have passed between us now that they are no longer distinguishable as individual acts, just a bright haze of loyalty. OUr friendship is a nebula. (34)

Her home is the burrow of a bibliophile hobbit -- low-ceilinged, close-walled, and brimming over with books.

...I can’t stop squirming. If fidgets were Wikipedia edits, I would have completely revamped the entry on guilt by now, and translated it into five new languages.

I feel a little whirl of dislocation -- the trademark sensation of the world being more closely knit together than you expected

If this sounds impressive to you, you’re over thirty.

All the secrets of the world worth knowing are hiding in plain site.