Fiction wouldn't be much fun without its fair share of scoundrels, and they have to live somewhere.

I got Oedipus off the incest charge--technicality, of course--he didn't know it was his mother at the time.

You many have noticed I have a temper ... but when I calmed down, I realized that this world, blighted and imperfect as it is, would be better with you in it.

Without unscrambled eggs, there was no time travel, no more depredation of the Now, and we could look to a brighter future of long-term thought--and more reading.

Two minds with but a single thought, two hearts that beat as one.

Anything devised by man has bureaucracy, corrpution and error hardwired at inception.

Death and the end of one's life are two very different things indeed.