Scythe

think all young women are cursed with a streak of unrelenting foolishness, and all young men are cursed with a streak of absolute stupidity.

Immortality has turned us all into cartoons.

Will we all be renaissance children, skilled at every art and science, because we’ve had the time to master them? Or will boredom and slavish routine plague us even more than it does today, giving us less of a reason to live limitless lives?

To be either too good or too bad drew attention. As much as he hated being the lettuce, it was his comfort zone.

“Tonight we witness the spectacle of human folly and tragedy,” he said. “Tomorrow, we shall live it.”

Innocence is doomed to die a senseless death at our own hands, a casualty of the mistakes we can never undo.

And which is worse—to be despised, or to be ignored?

every year henceforth would be named after a different species

2042 is the year we conquered death, and also the year we stopped counting. Sure, we still numbered years for a few more decades, but at the moment of immortality, passing time ceased to matter.

r younger brother, Ben,