Waking Gods

The known is finite, the unknown infinite; intellectually we stand on an islet in the midst of an illimitable ocean of inexplicability.

I came to realize that good and evil were out of my reach, that time was the only thing I had any control over. I could buy time, create intervals. I could not truly make the world a better place, but I could make part of it a better place for a short while.

Scientists are like children: They always want to know everything, they all ask too many questions, and they never follow orders to the letter.

You will not die of pain, but you will never get used to it. Pain is unique in that it does not show habituation or neural adaptation, like smell, or touch.

We’re not the greatest thing in the universe, certainly not the smartest. Seems logical there’d be a great many things in it we can’t comprehend.

While I am reasonably confident you are not “the chosen one,” you are without doubt one who has been chosen.

Vincent: "Rose, we can't fight this guy." Rose: "Can you..." Vincent: "Kara, what are you doing?" Rose: "What's going on?" Vincent: "Kara's... engaging in diplomacy." Rose: "She's what?" Vincent: "She's giving him the finger. Very mature, Kara!

If I grab a bunch of matter, anywhere, and I organize it in exactly the same way, I get…you. You, my friend, are a very complex, awe-inspiring configuration of matter. What you’re made of isn’t really important. Everything in the universe is made of the same thing. You’re a configuration. Your essence, as you call it, is information. It doesn’t matter where the material comes from. Do you think it matters when it comes from?

I may believe in God, but I’m at war with Him. I’m a scientist, I try to answer questions, one at a time, so there’s a little less room for Him as the answer. I plant my flag, and inch by inch, I take away His kingdom. It’s odd, but none of this has ever occurred to me before. I never even saw a real contradiction between science and religion. I see it now, I see it clear as day.

You were made for a particular purpose, but you can be anything you want. Anything, including that.

—Well, I’m sorry the apocalypse isn’t convenient for you. Now go to bed.

Believing you’re the only person with their head on straight is usually not a sign of good mental health.

Go home and tell your family you love them. Tell them ten times, a hundred times. Do it while you can. And if we somehow survive this, keep doing it. In the end, it’s all that really matters.

I don’t think either of us will get to grow old, especially if we’re together. The only question is: Do I wanna die young with anyone else?

I’ve crossed that line we’re not supposed to cross. I died. And I’m still here. I cheated death. I took away God’s power. I killed God and I feel empty inside.

Well, you, Rose Franklin, are made of the exact same stuff as the Pillars of Creation. No more. No less. That’s how special and insignificant you are.

Luck is believing you’re lucky.

I may believe in God, but I'm at war with him.

I killed god and I feel empty inside.

Parents feel a great deal of responsibility for the way their children turn out, but there is very little a parent can do that will remotely rival the influence a friend or lover can have.

You’re a very complex, awe-inspiring configuration of matter that is stable at room temperature.

I never got to tell you how sorry I was. I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to be something you weren’t. I’m sorry I made you…dim your light, when all I ever wanted was for it to burn brighter. That sounded good.

You, my friend, are a very complex, awe-inspiring configuration of matter. What you’re made of isn’t really important. Everything in the universe is made of the same thing. You’re a configuration. Your essence, as you call it, is information. It doesn’t matter where the material comes from. Do you think it matters when it comes from?

If I have, in any way, willingly or not, led you to believe I was remotely interested in your opinion of me, it was my mistake. It will not happen again.

Why do you do that? Ask if you can ask a question? Has anyone ever said no?

It is an imperfect solution to a less than ideal situation.

[Hmmm…Do you know who I was named after?] I’d say Eva Perón. —Eva’s from Puerto Rico, Vincent, not Argentina. [I was named after a robot.] —That is interesting. —Oh yeah. You have his attention now. [I was born on the day of the parade when the EDC was created. My parents were the biggest geeks ever, huge science-fiction fans. Themis was the greatest thing they’d ever seen. They wanted to name me after her, but they somehow thought everyone would start naming their kid Themis, so they named me after another big robot.] A robot? [Yes. Eva’s a common name in Spanish, but apparently, it’s also the name of a giant robot, from a Japanese anime they really liked. It’s old. I never saw it.] —Eva is for Evangelion? That is so cool! —Of course, Vincent knows all about it. —Yeah! It’s awesome! But ours is bigger. —Eva, I think you have a fan now. —I…We have it on DVD, you know.

It takes about a week after you announce it before you realize that the proposal was really the only part of getting married that was about you. The wedding itself? That’s all about your mother, your aunt who’s dying, how it’ll look like you’re taking sides if this second cousin you never met isn’t invited.