Цитаты из книги Cryptonomicon

Как все, идущее под UNIX'oм (Finux -- вариант UNlX'а), она имеет миллион разных опций, разобраться в которых под силу только очень молодому, одинокому или одержимому человеку. Рэнди прошел в жизни все три стадии, поэтому про опции знает много.

An idea springs out of his forehead fully formed, with no warning. This is how all the best ideas arrive. Ideas that he patiently cultivates from tiny seeds always fail to germinate or else grow up into monstrosities. Good ideas are just there all of a sudden, like angels in the Bible. You cannot ignore them just because they are ridiculous.

Wealth that is stored up in gold is dead. It rots and stinks. True wealth is made every day by men getting up out of bed and going to work. By school children doing their lessons, improving their minds.

Ares always reemerges from the chaos. It will never go away. Athenian civilization defends itself from the forces of Ares with metis, or technology. Technology is built on science. Science is like the alchemists’ uroburos, continually eating its own tail. The process of science doesn’t work unless young scientists have the freedom to attack and tear down old dogmas, to engage in an ongoing Titanomachia. Science flourishes where art and free speech flourish.

"You should be a billionaire, Randy. Thank god you’re not." "Why do you say that?" "Oh, because then you’d be a highly intelligent man who never has to make difficult choices — who never has to exert his mind. It is a state much worse than being a moron."

My point is that precision, and getting things right, in the mathematical sense, is the one thing we have going for us. Everyone has to have a way of getting ahead, right? Otherwise you end up working at McDonald’s your whole life, or worse. Some are born rich. Some are born into a big family like yours. We make our way in the world by knowing that two plus two equals four, and sticking to our guns in a way that is kind of nerdy and that maybe hurts people’s feelings sometimes.

Basically, if everyone has a vested interest in believing that they understand everything, or even that people are capable in principle of understanding it (either because believing this dampens their insecurities about the unpredictable world, or makes them feel more intelligent than others, or both) then you have an environment in which dopey, reductionist, simple-minded, pat, glib thinking can circulate, like wheelbarrows filled with inflated currency in the marketplaces of Jakarta.

But there is something that he could be doing. This is why laptops were invented, so that important business persons would not fritter away long flights relaxing.

The ocean is a Turing machine, the sand is its tape; the water reads the marks in the sand and sometimes erases them and some times carves new ones with tiny currents that are themselves a response to the marks.

Arguing with anonymous strangers on the Internet is a sucker’s game because they almost always turn out to be — or to be indistinguishable from — self-righteous sixteen-year-olds possessing infinite amounts of free time.

It is at this point that Shaftoe makes his Big Decision. It is surprisingly easy — but then, really stupid decisions are always the easiest.

War is hell, but smoking cigarettes makes it all worthwhile.

"The ability to wade through a technical text, and to understand it, is a privilege. It is a privilege conferred by an education that is available only to members of an elite class. That’s what I mean by technocrat."

На самом деле в подобном случае мы должны использовать своего рода калькуляцию смерти, поэтому настоящий вопрос: спасет ли это больше жизней, чем погубит?

Это что ж такое? Два грузовика вражеских солдат, укрытых всего-навсего брезентом, преспокойно едут через воюющую страну? Страну, где у власти фашисты? Какая халатность!.. Ему хочется вскочить, отбросить брезент и сделать итальяшкам втык. Чтоб хорошенько выскребли здесь все зубной щеткой! Вконец разболтались. Нипы, что ни говори, уж если объявляют войну, то по крайней мере воюют без дураков.

У британских противогазов впереди круглая плоская нашлепка, чтобы дышать, в точности как свиной пятачок. Ни одна женщина не согласилась бы, чтобы ее застали мертвой в такой штуке, если бы их не надевали на плакатах безупречные красавицы.