It was hot, the night we burned Chrome.

I feel like I've been very fortunate in that I've stuck like a burr to the dog-leg of the next generation of nerdism. I've been carried into the XXIth century on Bill Gates' pants-cuff.

Stand high long enough and your lightning will come.

I don't much live my life as if I was living in a Raymond Chandler novel, which is probably a good thing.

Sometimes, I feel like a time traveller, cause the only way that we can really travel in time is just to get older.

His teeth sang in their individual sockets like tuning forks, each one pitch-perfect and clear as ethanol.

The prefix cyber is going the way of the prefix electro.