Does somebody have an explanation why there's human flesh on the hall window upstairs?

All I'm saying is that it's shortsighted to blame TV. It's simply another symptom. TV didn't invent our aesthetic childishness here any more than the Manhattan Project invented aggression.

I had, by thirteen, developed a sort of Taoist hubris about my ability to control via non-control.

Like most North Americans of his generation, Hal tends to know way less about why he feels certain ways about the objects and pursuits he's devoted to than he does about the objects and pursuits themselves. It's hard to say for sure whether this is even exceptionally bad, this tendency.

I have filled 3 Mead notebooks trying to figure out whether it was Them or Just Me.

I read,' I say. 'I study and read. I bet I've read everything you've read. Don't think I haven't. I consume libraries. I wear out spines and ROM drives. I do things like get in a taxi and say, "The library, and step on it.

Fiction is one of the few experiences where loneliness can be both confronted and relieved.