favorite quotes

In such seconds of decision entire futures are made.

taylor swift actually saved my life, i had a tragic accident and fell into a coma for 7 months. taylor swift’s song played over the radio and i miraculously woke up and turned that shit off

What if that’s true? What if we live in a fifth-dimensional probability space? What if we actually inhabit the multiverse, but our brains have evolved in such a way as to equip us with a firewall that limits what we perceive to a single universe? One world-line. The one we choose, moment to moment. It makes sense if you think about it. We couldn’t possibly contend with simultaneously observing all possible realities at once. So how do we access this 5-D probability space? And if we could, where would it take us?

The human mind was forced to choose, among multiple complementary aspects of reality, which one it wanted to know accurately at a given moment. A full picture of objective reality, if it were available, could come only by combining impressions of complementary aspects of a phenomenon and accounting for the distortions inherent in each.

“Because memory . . . is everything. Physically speaking, a memory is nothing but a specific combination of neurons firing together—a symphony of neural activity. But in actuality, it’s the filter between us and reality. You think you’re tasting this wine, hearing the words I’m saying, in the present, but there’s no such thing. The neural impulses from your taste buds and your ears get transmitted to your brain, which processes them and dumps them into working memory—so by the time you know you’re experiencing something, it’s already in the past. Already a memory.” Helena leans forward, snaps her fingers. “Just what your brain does to interpret a simple stimulus like that is incredible. The visual and auditory information arrive at your eyes and ears at different speeds, and then are processed by your brain at different speeds. Your brain waits for the slowest bit of stimulus to be processed, then reorders the neural inputs correctly, and lets you experience them together, as a simultaneous event—about half a second after what actually happened. We think we’re perceiving the world directly and immediately, but everything we experience is this carefully edited, tape-delayed reconstruction.”

I rode a knife-edge of pain and ecstasy. I comprehended all the forces—genetic, environmental, my cascade of predestined choices—that had made me me in this moment. Saw myself as the inevitable solution to the equation of my existence. Finally understood that free will did not exist, because I could not choose my desires, only whether to pursue them. I saw all the old versions of Logan through time. Zygote to this moment. I wondered who I had become. What I had become. I wept. I screamed. I laughed hysterically.

With all the baggage that comes with it: made why? For what purpose? And the Messenger responds: “You are made of My will, and you are made of the technology of that other world, but all of this has been to speed you on a path you might have taken without me, given time and opportunity. You are Mine, but you also belong to the universe, and your purpose is whatever you choose. Your purpose is to survive and grow and prosper and to seek to understand, just as my people should have taken these things as their purpose, had they not fallen into foolishness, and perished.”

By now the whole idea had become a kind of scapegoat for the divisions of the human race. Bickering primates, the lot of them. Progress is what matters. Fulfilling the potential of humanity, and of all other life. She had always been one of the fiercest opponents of the growing conservative backlash most keenly exemplified by the Non Ultra Natura terrorists. If they had their way, we’d all end up back in the caves. Back in the trees. The whole point of civilization is that we exceed the limits of nature, you tedious little primitives.

“I have been a Catholic, a revelationist, a neo-Marxist, an interface zealot, a Bound Shaker, a satanist, a bishop in the Church of Jake’s Nada, and a dues-paying subscriber to the Assured Reincarnation Institute. Now, I am happy to say, I am a simple pagan.” He smiled at everyone.

“Right and wrong are constructs born of human sentiment. Nothing but stories we’ve made up and assigned meaning to. They don’t correspond to any objective reality. The only thing real is survival.” I said, “Maybe compassion and empathy are just squishy emotions. Illusions created by our mirror neurons. But does it really matter where they come from? They make us human. They might even be what make us worth saving.”

The exact opposite dilemma is true. Every job you get, every college you get into, every dollar you make takes away from someone else’s potential. What if the only person who could cure that incurable disease lost their spot at college because you applied and got in? What if someone more capable than you could have done your job on one fewer hour of sleep and donated the difference (which is more than you ever could)? You could justifiably make yourself infinitesimally small for someone better than you can be that much bigger.

It is futile and knackering to try and make all your tiny choices representative of your moral compass then beat yourself up when this plan inevitably fails. Feminists can get waxed. Priests can swear. Vegetarians can wear leather shoes. Do as much good as you can. The weighty representation of the world cannot rest on every decision you make.

No one has ever asked you to make a floor-to-ceiling-sized friendship collage for their birthday. Or ring them three times a day. No one will cry if you don’t invite them to dinner because you don’t have enough chairs. If you feel exhausted by people, it’s because you’re willingly playing the martyr to make them like you. It’s your problem, not theirs.

Unless someone dies, if a relationship goes wrong, you somehow had a part to play in it. How simultaneously freeing and overwhelming it is to know this. Men aren’t bad, women aren’t good. People are people and we all make, allow, and enable mistakes.

UN AGUJERO LLAMADO SOLEDAD ¿Imaginas que pudiésemos hacer un conjuro para olvidar todo lo que duele? ¡Sería una catástrofe, pequeña Agatha! No podrías conocerte a ti misma.

Nunca me han gustado los finales. Cuando termino un libro, siempre noto un hormigueo en la punta de los dedos porque deseo seguir pasando unas páginas que no existen. Me pregunto qué ocurrirá después, qué será de esos personajes, y me parece injusto ser testigo tan solo de un pequeño tramo de sus vidas.

—Imagina que la vida es una carretera, ¿vale? Pues, durante la infancia, vas montado en un burro viejísimo que apenas avanza, tienes tiempo para detenerte y mirarlo todo bien. Pero, luego, conforme creces, es como si te pusiesen al volante de un Ferrari; al principio, lo controlas; después, deja de funcionar el pedal del freno y ya no hay nada que hacer. Todo transcurre tan rápido que, en lugar de contemplar el paisaje, tan solo ves trazos aquí y allá e intentas no marearte hasta el final del trayecto.

Mientras conducía hacia aquí, pensaba en la palabra «locura» y me preguntaba por qué a menudo se asocia con el amor. Quizá porque ambas cosas son un poco imprudentes e irreflexivas; el amor no puedes pensarlo y masticarlo, no sirve de nada. Y esconde cierta insensatez, la razón apenas entra en juego. Al final, en realidad, tanto la locura como el amor pueden ser una temeridad y por eso resulta llamativo que el ser humano se sienta tan atraído por la idea de enamorarse locamente.

Se me olvidaba que nada brilla tanto como el amor —continuó Nicki—, porque su resplandor es tan intenso que puede llegar a cegar como los faros de un coche en mitad de una noche cerrada. Pero es el más bello y delicado. ¿Recuerdas cuando de pequeña jugaba a guardar las emociones en tarros de cristal? Pues el del amor siempre se me rompía. Claro, ¿es que a quién se le ocurre intentar contener algo tan indómito?

—¿Y qué te gusta? —Margot lo miró. —No sé. Mmm. Las rosas. Las estrellas. El fulgor de la luna. ¿Sabes esas plantas que crecen entre los adoquines de la acera? Y la lluvia fina, cuando no le importa a uno mojarse al caminar por la calle. El sol es un regalo. Los coleópteros son hermosos. Una chimenea encendida.

And for the lady, perhaps a library, an ocean view, and someone intelligent enough to keep her talking until 2 a.m.