In a sense, a cyborg has no origin story in the Western sense – a ‘final’ irony since the cyborg is also the awful apocalyptic telos of the ‘West’s’ escalating dominations of abstract individuation, an ultimate self untied at last from all dependency, a man in space.

I’d rather be a cyborg than a goddess.

Though both are bound in the spiral dance, I would rather be a cyborg than a goddess.

Late twentieth-century machines have made thoroughly ambiguous the difference between natural and artificial, mind and body, self-developing and externally designed, and many other distinctions that used to apply to organisms and machines. Our machines are disturbingly lively, and we ourselves frighteningly inert.

From this point of view, science - the real game in town - is rhetoric, a series of efforts to persuade relevant social actors that one's manufactured knowledge is a route to a desired form of very objective power.

The cyborg is a kind of disassembled and reassembled, postmodern collective and personal self. This is the self feminists must code.

Myth and tool mutually constitute each other.

We have all been injured, profoundly. We require regeneration, not rebirth, and the possibilities for our reconstitution include the utopian dream of the hope for a monstrous world without gender.

The cyborg would not recognize the garden of Eden it is not made of mud and cannot dream of returning to dust.

Grammar is politics by other means.

Why should our bodies end at the skin, or include at best other beings encapsulated by skin?

Blasphemy has always seemed to require taking things very seriously.

Our machines are disturbingly lively, and we ourselves frighteningly inert.

A cyborg is a cybernetic organism, a hybrid of machine and organism, a creature of social reality as well as a creature of fiction.

The boundary between science fiction and social reality is an optical illusion

Feminist objectivity means quite simply situated knowledges