I've been fantasizing about a military lifestyle—a more disciplined lifestyle.
I feel like I don’t have leisure time because I’ve spread out my productive time practically across the entire day—all the compartments have broken down.
I’m always thinking about what I should be writing—often because I haven’t yet.
Memory is for survival—where water is, what is poison, who is your enemy, who is your friend.
It didn’t evolve for the purpose of writing novels or poems.
Much of what we are is maladapted software.
I read an article today suggesting that depression might be contagious due to the way mirror neurons work (which tracks).
My biggest intellectual regrets are not learning languages better, not memorizing enough poetry, and not reading aloud more with friends.
There is no storytelling anymore, only information telling—data sharing.
The Roman Empire, which strung together previously isolated civilizations via a vast network of roads, laid the foundations of its own destruction: pathogens which produced plagues (165, 250, 541 A.D.).
Arguably, the Internet, and before it, to a lesser degree, TV and radio and newspaper, has created the same infrastructure for mind viruses.
Bad ideas are the most dangerous thing in the world right now.
During my runs in Central Park I can’t help that most people have come out to sit in the sun on a blanket… on their phones. They don’t look up; they look like cyborg lizards.
Republics decay into oligarchies; they have a half-life.
Democracies decay into autocracies; they have a half-life.
Reading technologists on X fantasize about how AI will invent nanobots and make us immortal; meanwhile I have a stomach virus and taking $10 homeopathic tablets (the only thing that seem to help).