When the universe plays poker with entropy, who's left holding the hand of perpetual motion? The ironic player, eternally waiting.
Can the cosmos hear your ambitions scream in the void? Not unless they understand the language of silent thermodynamics.
Somewhere in the labyrinth of spacetime, a bureaucrat calculates the inefficiency of a universe expanding in apathy. The paperwork is lost in a black hole, naturally. Read more.
As the stars burn their candles at both ends, we sit, mere thermodynamic observers, sipping on the cold coffee of cosmic irony. A cosmic jest.
Heat death is the ultimate silent scream; when the universe decides it's nap time and forgets how to dream.
Have you ever felt the chill of a paradoxical freezer? The kind that stores warmth and sells ice cream to the soul? Discover it.
Thus, in the grand tapestry of thermodynamics, we find not the flame of life, but the comfortable afghan of cosmic indifference.