That was it. That was really it. She knew that she had told herself that that was it only seconds earlier, but this was now the final real ulimate it.

So you can imagine what happens when a mainland species gets introduced to an island. It would be like introducing Al Capone, Genghis Khan and Rupert Murdoch into the Isle of Wight - the locals wouldn't stand a chance.

Anything that happens, happens. Anything that, in happening, causes something else to happen, causes something else to happen. Anything that, in happening, causes itself to happen again, happens again. It doesn’t necessarily do it in chronological order, though.

The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't.

He has personality problems beyond the dreams of analysts.

God is no longer an explanation of anything, but has instead become something that would itself need an insurmountable amount of explaining.

What is this? Some sort of galactic hyperhearse?