She was pointing into the empty, angel-less heavens beyond. Everything else. The universe. - Alastair Reynolds

But when she tried to say something, the words always seemed trite and inadequate. Nothing measured up. When any moment might be their last, there was nothing she could ever imagine saying that had the necessary dignity to fill that instant. Silence was better. Silence had its own dignity.

Evolution doesn’t greatly care about what happens to creatures once they’ve passed on their genetic heritage.

There’s a lot here we don’t understand. Adding one more thing to the list doesn’t strike me as the worst crime imaginable.