And Lot's wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human. So she was turned to a pillar of salt. So it goes.

Here we are, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.

Of course it is exhausting, having to reason all the time in a universe which wasn't meant to be reasonable.

Music makes practically everybody fonder of life than he or she would be without it.

The worst thing that could possibly happen to anybody would be to not be used for anything by anybody.
     --Beatrice Rumfoord to Malakai Constant

I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.

Kilgore Trout once wrote a short story which was a dialogue between two pieces of yeast.  They were discussing the possible purposes of life as they ate sugar and suffocated in their own excrement.  Because of their limited intelligence, they never came close to guessing that they were making champagne.