Charlie Jane Anders Quotes
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He was practicing active listening.
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People here are not accustomed to seeing economic disputes settled with guns, but every economy runs on bullets, one way or another.
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Storytelling is more like a skin. You start with the outermost layer, what it's going to look like, then you kind of get deeper into it. What's actually going on beneath the surface is not really dictated by or related to the surface genre. It's more about what's going to happen between the characters and what's taking place in the story.
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I was not even looking, but my Caddy pinged me with twenty-nine points of convergence
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People who told you to “think fast” were always those who thought much more slowly than you did. And they only said it when they were about to do something to contribute to the collective mental inertia.
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She and the other witches probably turned themselves into bats and had bat sex one hundred feet up, or had sex on the spirit plane, or with fire elementals or whatever.
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His life story was the story of Patricia and him, after all, for better or worse, and if she ended his life might go on, but his story would be over.
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You turned your guilt into resentment, because that seems easier to face. You won't move on until you turn it back into guilt, and then into forgiveness for yourself.
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Roberta, meanwhile, had brown eyes, a pointy chin, and absolutely perfect posture when she sat without fidgeting in a grown-up chair and a clean white dress. With both girls, their parents had hoped for a boy and picked out a name in advance.
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People who told you to "think fast" were always those who thought much more slowly than you did.
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His life story was the story of Patricia and him, after all, for better or worse, and if she ended his life might go on, but his story would be over. He tripped
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Caddy engineers had gotten into a fistfight with the open-source Artichoke BSD developers on the balcony.
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He tried to get the Caddy to run some of the life-organizing protocols, but they were pretty useless without connectivity.
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The bookstore had no musty “old books” smell, and instead it had a nice oaky aroma, similar to the way Laurence imagined the whiskey casks would be before you put Scotch into them for aging. This was a place where you would age well.
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Okay. So you could just put me up in a tree and hope for the best, but I’ll probably get eaten or starve to death.” His head bobbed. “Or … I mean. There is one thing.” “What?”
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Booze really was medicinal, after a near-death experience. Holding a drink in both hands and letting it corrode the topmost layer of his mouth and throat, Laurence felt a spiritual relationship with Bushmills.
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One day the Singularity would elevate humans to cybernetic superbeings, and maybe then people would say what they meant. Probably not, though.
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Decipher it. He was covered with a layer of grime, but also cobwebs and even moss. Normally, if she was out on her own, at night in the city, she would heal someone in this condition without a second thought. But Kawashima and Dorothea were nearby
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Nature has no opinion, no agenda. Nature provides a playing field, a not particularly level one, on which we compete with all creatures great and small. It’s more that nature’s playing field is full of traps.
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“Hey, it’s a bird!” a voice said from the darkness just as Patricia reached the ground. “Come here, bird. I only want to bite you.
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He had already figured out a great universal truth, that people never asked for documentation of anything, as long as you asked them for documentation first.
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Nobody wanted to befriend someone who was both nerdy and bad at homework.
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I don’t think a crow has ever even considered the categorical imperative.
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Crushed wing. Crying, in a pitch almost too high for Patricia to hear. She looked into the sparrow’s eye, enveloped by a dark stripe, and she saw its fear. Not just fear, but also misery - as if this bird knew it would die