For war is never some cosmic accident descending upon a people with all the chance and inevitability of asteroids falling like fire out of the heavens, but only the will and work of man.

The true human being is the meaning of the universe. He is a dancing star. He is the exploding singularity pregnant with infinite possibilities.

Life moved ever outward into infinite possibilities and yet all things were perfect and finished in every single moment, their end attained.

All men are warriors. And life for everything in our universe is nothing but war.

In an infinite universe, every point in space-time is the center.

We walk the brink of racial suicide because we were smart enough to make atomic bombs and stupid enough to use them.

"What is a human being, then?" "A seed." "A... seed?" "An acorn that is unafraid to destroy itself in growing into a tree."