In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is stoned to death.
Indifference is the strongest force in the universe. It makes everything it touches meaningless. Love and hate don't stand a chance against it.
Throughout the ages, stories with certain basic themes have recurred over and over, in widely disparate cultures; emerging like the goddess Venus from the sea of our unconscious.
A clear conscience is generally the result of a faulty memory, not a faulty life.
Studying anthropology, I developed a kind of holistic view of human existence, in which the dichotomies you listed are all necessary and vital aspects of life.
We are all born with a unique genetic blueprint, which lays out the basic characteristics of our personality as well as our physical health and appearance... And yet, we all know that life experiences do change us.
For every path you choose, there is another you must abandon, usually forever.
The contradictions are what make human behavior so maddening and yet so fascinating, all at the same time.
Myth is, after all, the neverending story.
Each time, storytellers clothed the naked body of the myth in their own traditions, so that listeners could relate more easily to its deeper meaning.
Everything born has to die, in order to make room for the future.
It doesn't matter. I'm not asking forever of you...just let me love you now.
What does immortality mean to me? That we all want more time; and we want it to be quality time.
Fear of the unknown is a terrible fear.
Humans may be the only creatures on Earth who spend significant time thinking about the fact that someday their lives will end.
Don't worry. You're safe now. You've got nothing left to steal.
Life scars us with its random motion, he thought. Only death is perfect.
Archaeology is the anthropology of the past, and science fiction is the anthropology of the future.
But our society does not grant nontraditional forms of intelligence equal recognition, no matter how much it would help us get along or truly enrich our lives.
Here was a fragment of Goddess myth that, through all its permutations, had somehow escaped being turned on its head. It was the perfect springboard for the sort of novel I wanted to write.
The ecosystem of our world is a closed system: it would run out of gas, collapse of its own weight.
There's more to me, more to the universe, than I suspected. Room for all the dreams I ever had, and all the nightmares...heroes in the gutters and in the mirror; saints in the frozen wasteland; fools and liars on the throne of wisdom, and hands reaching out in hunger that will never be filled.
Besides, wouldn't it be wonderful if no one ever had to worry about the random cruelty of fatal illness or the woes of old age attacking them or their loved ones?
Beyond that, I seem to be compelled to write science fiction, rather than fantasy or mysteries or some other genre more likely to climb onto bestseller lists even though I enjoy reading a wide variety of literature, both fiction and nonfiction.
To be alive was to be disappointed. You tried and failed and kept on trying, never knowing whether you'd ever get what you wanted. But sometimes we get what we need.
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