“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies—God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater
And it’s so damn good to be here. In the cold, in the hot, in the empty. It’s a good suffering
Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.
Reality is the matter we act upon, using energy.
I believe it is your responsibility to properly use energy you control. Moreover, you will always have excess energy that you need to dispose of somehow (living things need to collect more energy than is absolutely required, or they risk death).
Note that a collection of energy that is expended improperly is called a “bomb”.
Shadows dancing on the cave walls of our biology.
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see…
I’m just a poor booy, I need to sympathy (cause he’s easy come, easy go, little high, little low)
This
An entangled subset of states within an unobservable wave function.
Bunch of tree dwelling apes who developed language to tell good vs leoparded trees after most of the trees died; went too far and are going extinct by finding a great filter they can’t invent out of.
The reason why nothing matters.
A really really bad joke.
A blur of sensory experiences recorded only in volatile memory.
Chaos+ entropy+ lots of space and time. Everything is in motion of some kind. Nothing will ever be like it once was. Enjoy yourself when you can. Love your self and respect life. Be kind to those that have less than you. Look at creation and wonder.
That which we call substance and reality is shadow and illusion, and that which we call shadow and illusion is substance and reality.
deleted by creator
I can sum it up in just 1 word.
“Bullshit.”
Reality is what you make of it.
Totally blank page by default?
Hell no. Canvas full of random fucked up shit right from the start. But still, it is what you make of it.
It’s like finding faces in the texture of the carpet.
Naming blobs of a Rorschach test.
I think I would take the Rorschach test more seriously if they just stopped using erotic pictures of my mom.
