Science fiction writers foresee the inevitable, and although problems and catastrophes may be inevitable, solutions are not.

Having reached 451 books as of now doesn't help the situation. If I were to be dying now, I would be murmuring, "Too bad! Only four hundred fifty-one." (Those would be my next-to-last words. The last ones will be: "I love you, Janet.") [They were. -Janet.]

The facts, gentlemen, and nothing but the facts, for careful eyes are narrowly watching.

Fifty years," I hackneyed, "is a long time." "Not when you're looking back at them," she said. "You wonder how they vanished so quickly.

The Earth should not be cut up into hundreds of different sections, each inhabited by a self-defined segment of humanity that considers its own welfare and its own "national security" to be paramount above all other consideration.

I made up my mind long ago to follow one cardinal rule in all my writing — to be clear.

There is as yet insufficient data for a meaningful answer.