I looked around the store and what I saw was not very encouraging. There were rows and rows of violent toys...aisle after aisle of training devices for recreational slaughter. No wonder our world was such a mean and violent place...if we teach children that killing is fun, can we really be surprised if now and then someone is smart enough to learn?

I really am guilty, of many somethings, all of them lethal and very enjoyable and technically not quite legal.

A reasonable being might think that he and I could find some common ground; have a cup of coffee and compare our Passengers, exchange trade talk and chitchat about dismemberment techniques. But no: Doakes wanted me dead. And I found it difficult to share his point of view.

Life teaches us that human thought almost never walks hand in hand with logic, and it is usually counterproductive to raise the point.

Why bother inflicting enormous pain on yourself when sooner or later Life would certainly get around to doing it for you?

After a long moment I closed the freezer door. I wanted to lie down and press my cheek against the cool linoleum. Instead I reached out with my little finger and flipped the Barbie's head. It went thack thack against the door. I flipped it again. Thack thack. Whee. I had a new hobby.

What do you want a clock for?” “To find out what time it is,” I said. “I think that’s the usual purpose.