Hallie

“I'm trapped next to this young techno-optimist guy. He explains that current technology will not longer seem strange when the generation who didn't grow up with it finally ages out of the conversation. Dies, I think he means.

His point is that eventually all those who are unnerved by what is falling away will be gone, and after that, there won't be any more talk of what has been lost, only of what has been gained.

But wait, that sounds bad to me. Doesn't that mean if we end up somewhere we don't want to be, we can't retrace our steps?

...

Later, Sylvia tells me her end of the table was even worse. The guy in the Gore-Tex jacket was going on and on about transhumanism and how we would soon shed these burdensome bodies and become part of the singularity. "These people long for immortality but can't wait ten minutes for a cup of coffee," she says.”
― Jenny Offill, Weather

“I offer her some birthday cake. She goes into the usual bit about temptation and sinfulness and maybe this and maybe that, and we have to go through every station of the fucking cross before she takes a bite of it.”
― Jenny Offill, Weather

“I'm starting to miss him. The warm hum of his body next to me in bed. Certain little jokes and kindnesses. A kind of credit or goodwill, extended and extended again and again whether or not you deserve it.”
― Jenny Offill, Weather

“Once sadness was considered one of the deadly sins, but this was later changed to sloth. (Two strikes then.)”
― Jenny Offill, Weather