And then, just as Wilbur was settling down for his morning nap, he heard again the thin voice that had addressed him the night before. "Salutations!" said the voice. Wilbur jumped to his feet. "Salu-what?" he cried. "Salutations!" repeated the voice. "What are they, and where are you?" screamed Wilbur. "Please, please, tell me where you are. And what are salutations?" "Salutations are greetings," said the voice. "When I say 'salutations,' it's just my fancy way of saying hello or good morning.

Humour plays close to the big, hot fire, which is the truth, and the reader feels the heat.

I have one share in corporate Earth, and I am nervous about the management.

Advice to young writers wo want to get ahead without any annoying delays: don't write about Man, write about a man.

All poets who, when reading from their own works,m experience a choked feeling, are major. For that matter, all poets who read from their own works are major, whether they choke or not.

Books are good company, in sad times and happy times, for books are people-- people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.

If I can fool a bug... I can surely fool a man. People are not as smart as bugs.