I tend to get very suspicious of anything that thinks it's art while it's being created.

Dirk was, for one of the few times in a life of exuberantly prolific loquacity, wordless.

The only person for whom the house was in any way special was Arthur Dent, and that was only because it happened to be the one he lived in.

All through my life I've had this strange unaccountable feeling that something was going on in the world, something big, even sinister, and no one would tell me what it was." "No," said the old man, "that's just perfectly normal paranoia. Everyone in the Universe has that.

There is no point in using the word 'impossible' to describe something that has clearly happened.

and we’ll be saying a big hello to all intelligent life forms everywhere … and to everyone else out there, the secret is to bang the rocks together, guys.

'The difficulty with this conversation,' said Arthur after a sort of pondering look had crawled slowly across his face like a mountaineer negotiating a tricky outcrop, 'is that it's very different from most of the ones I've had of late. Which, as I explained, have mostly been with trees.'