Evolution and Literature
Darwin, the writer.
Submitted by mfradera on Sat, 02/14/2009 - 3:16pmIs Storytelling Adaptive?
Submitted by merlin on Fri, 02/13/2009 - 6:14pmPrimates and Philosophers: How Morality Evolved – A Book Review
Submitted by heather on Fri, 05/16/2008 - 12:03pmFrans de Waal’s Primates and Philosophers is an intriguing exploration of animal and human behavior, and a fierce attempt to link them intrinsically and inseparably. De Waal attacks the notion that morality is a uniquely human trait – opposing those who believe that homo sapiens is a loner in ethics, and that our species rose magnificent out of the barbaric and uncomplicated ashes of our ancestors.
Genetic Engineering as the End of Human Evolution?
Submitted by SerendipUpdate on Thu, 01/17/2008 - 3:09pmBeyond Turing: Exploring the Inner Workings of Human Intelligence through AI
Submitted by SerendipUpdate on Thu, 01/17/2008 - 10:44amOn Oceans and Nations
Submitted by SerendipUpdate on Wed, 01/16/2008 - 3:13pm
Story of Evolution, Evolution of Stories
Bryn Mawr College, Spring 2004
Third Web Paper
On Serendip
The Meme Police
Submitted by SerendipUpdate on Fri, 01/04/2008 - 12:19pm
Story of Evolution, Evolution of Stories
Bryn Mawr College, Spring 2004
Second Web Paper
On Serendip
Training Aunt
Submitted by danYell on Sat, 05/19/2007 - 7:05amTraining Aunt
What will grow quickly, that you can't make straight
It's the price you gotta pay
Do yourself a favour and pack you bags
Buy a ticket and get on the train
Buy a ticket and get on the train
-- Black Swan, Thom Yorke
She was born in the city, but she grew up in the country. A Haitian father and a white American mother, they struggled to move their family out of a two-bedroom apartment in Harlem and into the bucolic Hudson Valley. She was nine when they loaded up the truck and followed it in their Peugeot up the Palisades Parkway to a small town on the Hudson River. When they got out of the car she was sheepish, didn’t know what to do. She circled the four-acre property with her older sister Ingrid while her parents fumbled with the keys to the house. She and Ingrid discovered plant life with no name. “Is that a dandelion?” “Actually,” said Ingrid, “it’s not even yellow.” There was a stream, a babbling brook, running along the back edge of the yard, and a pond with an island in the front. “You think anyone can see us?” asked Fleuriana. “Probably not,” said her sister. So Fleuriana removed her shirt and shoes, picked half a dozen purple flowers and sang the dandelion song anyway. She waded in the stream and toyed with a mass of fishes eggs. She was interrupted by her mother, who opened the back door, demanded to know why she’d wrecked the irises, and where in the world was her shirt anyway. Her father laughed.
Translating Reality
Submitted by hayley reed on Fri, 05/18/2007 - 1:19pmHayley Reed
May 17th, 2007
Translating Reality:
Reality is a palette that humans paint on to let themselves sleep better at night.



