The only way I can possibly heat my so-called mind up to working temperature is to imagine I'm talking to someone I admire.

I've had too many experiences in my life of being the first woman in some damned occupation.

Man is an animal whose dreams come true and kill him.

And here is our girl, looking-- If possible, worse than before. (You thought this was Cinderella transistorized?)

You can understand why a system would seek information - but why in hell does it offer information? Why do we strive to be understood? Why is a refusal to accept communication so painful?

All I can say is that laughter is my music; I would deeply suspect an argument which hadn't laughter.

Evil is the voltage of good; the urge to goodness, without the potential of evil, is trivial.