there's no chance at all: we are all trapped by a singular fate.
I grow tired of 18th century moralities in a 20th century space-atomic age
Writers are nothing but beggars with a good line.
Things will be far worse than they are now. And far better. I wait.
I thought you were sane," I said, "but you're just as crazy as the rest of them.
Love is a fog that burns with the first daylight of reality.