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

This planet has - or rather had - a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movement of small green pieces of paper, which was odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy.

I was created to fulfill a function and I failed in it. I negated my own existence.

I find that writing is a constant battle with exactly the same problems you've always had.

In order to fly, all one must do is simply miss the ground.

The argument goes something like this: "I refuse to prove that I exist," says God, "for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing.

All opinions are not equal. Some are a very great deal more robust, sophisticated and well supported in logic and argument than others.