Science fiction, as I mentioned before, writes about what is neither impossible nor possible; the fact is that, when the question of possibility comes up in science fiction, the author can only reply that nobody knows. We haven't been there yet. We haven't discovered that yet. Science fiction hasn't happened.

As my mother once said: The boys throw stones at the frog in jest. But the frogs die in earnest.

I'm not a girl. I'm a genius.

I think we ought to decide that man-hating is not only respectable but honorable. To be a misandrist a woman needs considerable ingenuity, originality, and resilience. A misogynist requires no such resources.

Privileged groups, like everyone else, want to think well of themselves and to believe that they are acting generously and justly.

When one culture has the big guns and the other has none, there is a certain predictablity about the outcome.

I once asked a young dissertation writer whether her suddenly grayed hair was due to ill health or personal tragedy; she answered: “It was the footnotes”.