Ryan Stephen Tuck
Can you sacrifice the few? When those few are the best? Deny the best its right to the top - and there’s no best left. What are your masses but millions of dull, shriveled, stagnant souls that have no thoughts of their own, who eat and sleep and chew helplessly the words others put into their brains? And for those you would sacrifice the few who know life, who are life. I loathe your ideals because I know no worse injustice than the giving of the undeserved. Because men are not equal in ability and one can’t treat them as if they are. And because I loathe most of them.
Kira Arguonova, We The Living
It was an old drinking song grown to the dignity of a student’s anthem; a slow, mournful tune with an artificial gaiety in the roll of its spiritless notes, born long before the revolution in the stuffy rooms where unshaven men and mannish women discussed philosophy and with forced bravado drank cheap vodka to the futility of life.
Ayn Rand, We The Living
If you write a whole line of zeroes it’s still nothing.
Kira Argounova, We The Living
Yet among all the distractions and diversions of a planet which now seemed well on the way to becoming one vast playground, there were some who still found time to repeat an ancient and never-answered question: “Where do we go from here?”
Arthur C Clarke, Childhood’s End
One of the most noticeable changes had been a slowing down of the mad tempo that had so characterized the twentieth century. Life was more leisurely than it had been for generations. It therefore had less zest for the few, but more tranquility for the many. Western man had re-learned - what the rest of the world had never forgotten - that there was nothing sinful in leisure as long as it did not degenerate into mere sloth.
Arthur C Clarke, Childhood’s End
I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent god would have designedly created parasitic wasps with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars.
Charles Darwin

i just love Brigid Wallace so much. She is so amazing and she is the most beautiful girl in the entire universe.

Then, suddenly, the tempest burst. A dozen men were on their feet in an instant, their teeth set, their fists clenched, their faces purple with rage. Oaths, curses, maledictions, exploded like the firing of successive mines. Voices quivered with wrath; hands flung upward; the fingers hooked, prehensile, trembled with anger. The sense of wrongs, the injustices, the oppression, extortion, and pillage of twenty years suddenly culminated and found voice in a raucous howl of execration. For a second there was nothing articulate in that cry of savage exasperation, nothing even intelligent. It was the human animal hounded to its corner, exploited, harried to its last stand, at bay, ferocious, terrible, turning at last with bared teeth and upraised claws to meet the death grapple. It was the hideous squealing of the tormented brute, its back to the wall, defending its lair, its mate and its whelps, ready to bite, to rend, to trample, to batter out the life of the enemy in a primeval, bestial welter of blood and fury.
Frank Norris, The Octopus
We want to stand upon our own feet and look fair and square at the world — its good facts, its bad facts, its beauties, and its ugliness; see the world as it is and be not afraid of it. Conquer the world by intelligence and not merely by being slavishly subdued by the terror that comes from it. The whole conception of God is a conception derived from the ancient Oriental despotisms. It is a conception quite unworthy of free men. When you hear people in church debasing themselves and saying that they are miserable sinners, and all the rest of it, it seems contemptible and not worthy of self-respecting human beings. We ought to stand up and look the world frankly in the face. We ought to make the best we can of the world, and if it is not so good as we wish, after all it will still be better than what these others have made of it in all these ages. A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men. It needs a fearless outlook and a free intelligence. It needs hope for the future, not looking back all the time toward a past that is dead, which we trust will be far surpassed by the future that our intelligence can create.
Bertrand Russell, Why I Am Not A Christian
Everywhere throughout the great San Joaquin, unseen and unheard, a thousand plows up-stirred the land; tens of thousands of shears clutched deep into the warm, moist soil. It was the long, stroking caress, vigorous, male, powerful, for which the earth seemed panting. The heroic embrace of a multitude of iron hands, gripping deep into the brown, warm flesh of the land that quivered responsive and passionate under this rude advance, so robust as to be almost an assault, so violent as to be veritably brutal. There, under the sun and under the speckless sheen of the sky, the wooing of the Titan began, the vast primal passion, the two world forces, the elemental male and female, locked in a colossal embrace, at grapples in the throes of an infinite desire, at once terrible and divine, knowing no law, untamed, savage, natural, sublime.
Frank Norris, The Octopus