sig-o-matic I read I realized, "this would make a good .sig..."

It was one of Crake's rules that no name could be chosen for which a physical equivalent--even stuffed, even skeletal--could not be demonstrated.

When did the body first set out on its own adventures? ...after having ditched its old traveling companions, the mind and the soul, for whom it had once been considered a mere corrupt vessel or else a puppet acting out their dramas for them, or else bad company, leading the other two astray. It must have got tired of the soul's constant nagging and whining and the anxiety-driven intellectual web-spinning of the mind, distracting it whenever it was getting its teeth into something juicy or its fingers into something good. It had dumped the other two back there somewhere, leaving them stranded in some damp sanctuary or stuffy lecture hall while it made a beeline for the topless bars, and it had dumped culture along with them: music and painting and poetry and plays. Sublimation, all of it; nothing but sublimation, according to the body. Why not cut to the chase? But the body had its own cultural forms. It had its own art. Executions were its tragedies, pornography was its romance.

There's something to be said for hunger: at least it lets you know you're still alive.

He doesn't know which is worse, a past he can't regain or a present that will destroy him if he looks at it too clearly. Then there's the future. Sheer vertigo.

As a species we're pathetic in that way: imperfectly monogamous. If we could only pair-bond for life, like gibbons, or else opt for total guilt-free promiscuity, there'd be no more sexual torment.

What is it Byron said? Who'd write if they could do otherwise? Something like that.

He came to understand why serial killers sent helpful clues to the police.

Everything in his life was temporary, ungrounded. Language itself had lost its solidity; it had become thin, contingent, slippery, a viscid film on which he was sliding around like an eyeball on a plate. An eyeball that could still see, however. That was the trouble.

Is this purgatory, and if it is, why is it so much like the first grade?

Wrap at line:     40    60    65    80

 Add quotation marks
 Add book title as well as author name


All quotations copyright 2003 by O.W. Toad Ltd. Quotations can be found on pages 7, 85, 95. 147, 166, 167, 249, 260, and 359 (respectively) of the 2003 hardback edition published by Bloomsbury.