Second saddest thing in the world: letting go.

The sole perspective that I may have, that you may not have, in your privileged existence, is of time.

More often now he reached for words but found only word-shaped holes.

When does “verge of collapse” become actual collapse?

All-purpose advice: wire now, detonate later.

Far too finely wrought to be good.

She said, Hell, for me, would be eternity, with you.

Each sleepless night between the hours of 2 and 5 you traverse a vast region where your failings are laid bare under the moon’s implacable light.

A great artist and an excruciating bore.

The possibility of something else entirely.
To be nothing. To be as nothing.

The question isn’t whether AI has become sentient, but whether humans have.

The few minutes each evening this time of year when the back windows flood with wild monkey light and birdcalls echo through the trees. Something in you lifts and you feel the heaviness of what you’ve become.

You learn something new every day. And yet you never learn it.

The promise of the future has receded into the distant past.

God regrets to announce that he is wiping us off the face of the earth.

He remembered the results of a study finding that over 50% of people you consider friends don’t reciprocate. Although in his case this was more or less irrelevant, he still found it depressing.

Stepping out after a dreadful night, you feel the air on your skin and it all rolls over you again: the majesty of life on earth.

A world held together by duct tape and magical thinking.

Whenever I see an advertisement cut to a soundtrack of “What a Wonderful World,” I always feel like I’m being sold a great big steaming pile of shit.

A funeral in the rain, attended by five people who knew him online.