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898 books
—
657 voters
“Art is the only answer to chaos and the void.”
― Velocity
― Velocity
“It is up to us to decide what human means, and exactly how it is different from machine, and what tasks ought and ought not to be trusted to either species of symbol-processing system. But some decisions must be made soon, while the technology is still young. And the deciding must be shared by as many citizens as possible, not just the experts. In that sense, the most important factor in whether we will all see the dawn of a humane, sustainable world in the twenty-first century will be how we deal with these machines a few of us thought up and a lot of us will be using.”
― Tools for Thought: The History and Future of Mind-Expanding Technology
― Tools for Thought: The History and Future of Mind-Expanding Technology
“We're more than the sum total of our choices, that all the paths we might have taken factor somehow into the math of our identity.”
― Dark Matter
― Dark Matter
“RUTH: If you take the glass…I’ll take you.”
― The Homecoming
― The Homecoming
“The song just started again, and now I sang it, too. "These strong hands belong to you..."
I found a place between two men. The first was about my age, maybe a little younger, with high cheekbones and small eyes. The other was middle-aged, with a wide forehead and bulb nose, and beside him was a man with a striking face, a square, dimpled chin and high cheekbones... and then there was another, and another--all the kinds of faces in all the colors the world calls black: brown and tan and yellow and orange, copper and bronze and gold.
"These strong hands belong to you..."
They sang--we sang--with no enthusiasm or joy. We used to sing at Bell's, crossing the yard or working on the pile, just like slaves used to sing in Old Slavery, spirituals and work songs, sly lyrics, silly lyrics, yearning for freedom or roasting Massa in nonsense words he couldn't understand. This, though--this was a different kind of singing. I looked from man to man, and they were singing mechanically, eyes front, mouths moving like puppets. Singing this dumb refrain about how much they loved their bosses and loved their work.
Nothing spiritual about this. This was something else altogether.”
― Underground Airlines
I found a place between two men. The first was about my age, maybe a little younger, with high cheekbones and small eyes. The other was middle-aged, with a wide forehead and bulb nose, and beside him was a man with a striking face, a square, dimpled chin and high cheekbones... and then there was another, and another--all the kinds of faces in all the colors the world calls black: brown and tan and yellow and orange, copper and bronze and gold.
"These strong hands belong to you..."
They sang--we sang--with no enthusiasm or joy. We used to sing at Bell's, crossing the yard or working on the pile, just like slaves used to sing in Old Slavery, spirituals and work songs, sly lyrics, silly lyrics, yearning for freedom or roasting Massa in nonsense words he couldn't understand. This, though--this was a different kind of singing. I looked from man to man, and they were singing mechanically, eyes front, mouths moving like puppets. Singing this dumb refrain about how much they loved their bosses and loved their work.
Nothing spiritual about this. This was something else altogether.”
― Underground Airlines
Kelli’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Kelli’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
746 books
|
245 friends
2,582 books
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1,088 friends
1,325 books
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636 friends
573 books
|
88 friends
1,782 books
|
195 friends
152 books
|
14 friends
470 books
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109 friends
581 books
|
130 friends
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