Each big idea like that is an operating system upgrade, " she says, smiling. Comfortable territory. "Writers are responsible for some of it. They say Shakespeare invented the internal monologue." Oh, I am very familiar with the internal monologue." But I think the writers had their turn, " she says, "and now it's programmers who get to upgrade the human operating system." I am definitely talking to a girl from Google. "So what's the next upgrade?"" It's already happening, " she says. "There are all these things you can do, and it's like you're in more than one place at one time, and it's totally normal. I mean, look around." I swivel my head, and I see what she wants me to see: dozens of people sitting at tiny tables, all learning into phones showing them places that don't exist and yet are somehow more interesting.. . Robin Sloan
Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this.
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Vita Sackvillewest
When male authors write love stories, the heroine tends to end up dead.
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Susan Elizabeth Phillips
I remember when your name was just another name that rolled without thought off my tongue. Now, I can’t look at your name without an abundance of sentiment attached to each lettter. Your name, which I played with so carelessly, so easily, has somehow become...
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Coco J. Ginger
When Great Trees FallWhen great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, lions hunker downin tall grasses, and even elephantslumber after safety. When great trees fallin forests, small things recoil into silence, their senseseroded beyond fear. When great souls die, the air around us becomeslight,...
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Maya Angelou
I do not love men: I love what devours them.
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Unknown
More Quotes By Robin Sloan
Neel cuts in: "Where'd you grow up?"" Palo Alto, " she says. From there to Stanford to Google: for a girl obsessed with the outer limits of human potential, Kat has stayed pretty close to home. Neel nods knowingly. "The suburban mind cannot comprehend the...
America pays defense contractors to build aircraft carriers. Google pays brilliant programmers to do whatever the hell they want.
It was a fungal party hellscape.
Walking the stacks in a library, dragging your fingers across the spines -- it's hard not to feel the presence of sleeping spirits.
After that, the book will fade, the way all books fade in your mind. But I hope you will remember this: A man walking fast down a dark lonely street. Quick steps and hard breathing, all wonder and need. A bell above a door and...
