Come on,โ he droned, โIโve been ordered to take you down to the bridge. Here I am, brain the size of a planet and they ask me to take you down to the bridge. Call that job satisfaction? โCos I donโt.โ He turned and walked back to the hated door. โEr, excuse me,โ said Ford following after him, โwhich government owns this ship?โ Marvin ignored him. โYou watch this door,โ he muttered, โitโs about to open again. I can tell by the intolerable air of smugness it suddenly generates.
Douglas AdamsDirk turned on the car wipers, which grumbled because they didn't have quite enough rain to wipe away, so he turned them off again. Rain quickly speckled the windscreen. He turned on the wipers again, but they still refused to feel that the exercise was worthwhile, and scraped and squeaked in protest.
Douglas AdamsI watched the gorilla's eyes again, wise and knowing eyes, and wondered about this business of trying to teach apes language. Our language. Why? There are many members of our own species who live in and with the forest and know it and understand it. We don't listen to them. What is there to suggest we would listen to anything an ape could tell us? Or that it would be able to tell us of its life in a language that hasn't been born of that life? I thought, maybe it is not that they have yet to gain a language, it is that we have lost one.
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