We contrast the urban and the natural, but that’s a contemporary myth. We’re animals, after all; our cities are organic products, fully as “natural” (whatever that word really means) as a termite hill or a rabbit warren. But how much more interesting: how much more complex, dressed in the intricacies and exfoliations of human culture, simple patterns iterated into infinite variation. And full of secrets, beyond counting.
Robert Charles WilsonI won't put my ignorance on an altar and call it God. It feels like idolatry, like the worst kind of idolatry.
Robert Charles WilsonThere are so many kinds of time. The time by which we measure our lives. Months and years. Or the big time, the time that raises mountains and makes stars. Or all the things that happen between one heartbeat and the next. Its hard to live in all those kinds of times. Easy to forget that you live in all of them.
Robert Charles WilsonTags: philosophy time
We're all born strangers to ourselves and each other, and we're seldom formally introduced.
Robert Charles WilsonCertainly it's a rare glimpse into the lives of the Secular Ancients. They don't seem as bad as the Dominion histories make them out to be. Though clearly they were imperfect."
"I don't deny that they were imperfect," Julian said in a distant voice. "I'm not uncritical of the Secular Ancients, Adam. They had all sorts of vices, and they committed one sin for which I can never bring myself to entirely forgive them."
"What sin is that?"
"They evolved into us," he said.
Tags: history society evolution perfection
there is a prejuidice imposed on us by our brief window of consciousness: things that move are alive, things that don't are dead.
Robert Charles WilsonYou must not make the mistake of thinking that because nothing lasts, nothing matters.
Robert Charles WilsonWhat a person runs from and what a person runs to aren't always as different as we hope.
Robert Charles WilsonThe territory through which we passed had been overbuilt in the days over the Secular Ancients, but only a few traces of that exuberant time remained, and a whole forest had grown up since then, maple and birch and pine, its woody roots no doubt entwined with artifacts from the Efflorescence of Oil and with the bones of the artifacts' owners. What is the modern world, Julian once asked, but a vast Cemetery, reclaimed by nature? Every step we took reverberated in the skulls of our ancestors, and I felt as if there were centuries rather than soil beneath my feet.
Robert Charles WilsonI was east of Skepticism and north of Faith, with an unsettled compass and variable winds. But I could offer up a prayer as well as the next man, and leave it to Heaven to judge the result.
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