"I read a theory once, that the human intellect was like peacock feathers. Just an extravagant display intended to attract a mate. All of art, literature, a bit of Mozart, William Shakespeare, Michelangelo, and the Empire State Building -- just an elaborate mating ritual. Maybe it doesn't matter that we have accomplished so much for the basest of reasons. But, of course, the peacock can barely fly. It lives in the dirt, pecking insects out of the muck, consoling itself with its great beauty."
“我曾经读到过一个理论，说人类的智慧就像是孔雀的羽毛，华丽的效果只不过是用来吸引异性。所有人类的艺术，文学，莫扎特的那点儿音乐，莎士比亚，米开朗基罗，还有帝国大厦，都只是一种精致的求偶仪式。或许，比起我们这么伟大的成就，这个最底层的原因无足轻重了，但是，孔雀终究是不会飞的。它们只能活在地上，从泥巴里啄点虫子吃，然后拿漂亮的外表来安慰自己。”
