That's how the madness of the world tries to colonize you: from the outside in, forcing you to live in its reality.

I think I got a complete picture of what the lives of scientists are like. My father is of the opinion that if scientists are allowed to follow their nose, eventually it results in something. Unfortunately that doesn't always happen. What I came out of it with, in a non-cynical way, was that the scientific process is as messy as anything else. There's nothing wrong with that. That's just the way it is.

Who had the bigger burden? The one who had to watch the other person endure or the one who endured?

Nothing that lived and breathed was truly objective—even in a vacuum, even if all that possessed the brain was a self-immolating desire for the truth.

Some questions will ruin you if you are denied the answer long enough.

I always try to be alert to the potential for repetition, for a decaying orbit with regard to my use of technique, etc.

I have always tended toward a lush prose style, but I take care to modulate it from story to story and to strip it down entirely when necessary.