Any parting could be forever, and we don't know.

God turned out to be a bunch of bad little kids playing interstellar Xbox. Isn't that funny?

People with a high tolerance for boredom can get a lot of thinking done.

There’s always someone who knows something.

Do they see the lethal insanity of a race to the brink of oblivion, and then over the edge? Apparently not. If they did, surely they wouldn't be racing to begin with. Or is it a simple failure of imagination? One doesn't like to think such a rudimentary failing could bring about the end, yet...

By writing a horror novel where this inexplicable disorder takes over in our ordered lives, you make order look better by comparison. But below that, there's a part of us that responds to the Who bashing their instruments to pieces on the stage. There's a very primitive part that says, "Do it some more."

Money can't buy off the lightning.