Jay Matthews

This, indeed, is the silent refrain of the novel: the haunting reminder that however the past and the future might unfold and refold in the origami of even the most elaborate time-model, unless we live in the present, we are not living at all.

It is time to grieve and mourn the dead and believe in the power of renewal. If we do not embrace our grief, our sadness will come out sideways in unexpected forms of depression and violence.

In the future—not the distant future, but ten years, five—people will remember the internet as a brief dumb enthusiasm, like phrenology or the dirigible. They might still use computer networks to send an email or manage their bank accounts, but those networks will not be where culture or politics happens. The idea of spending _all day online_ will... See more

More often it is the defensive, counterfeit form of that pursuit: an exercise in going through the motions of “pursuing excellence” in order to escape the guilt and anxiety imposed by our inner drill sergean t, or simply to numb the uncomfortable awareness of lacking a genuine ideal.

Musgrave outlines that innovation is often easier to measure which is perhaps why it's easy for it to become the focus—rather than improvement.

“How much do we try to facilitate what’s going to be coming in? What I mean by that is, if there are species that aren’t growing in the park now—that aren’t natural to this area in 2021—but do have suitable habitat and are growing in populations, let’s say, 50–100 miles from here, what can we do to allow for those to come in and establish?"

The takeaway is that you can take it slow. Creating online, doing your own thing, and dabbling here and there might dramatically expand your possibilities in the future.