To die on a dying Earth - I'd live, if only to weep

Real artists, it seems to me, are those who don't repeat themselves.

And middle-class women, although taught to value established forms, are in the same position as the working class: neither can use established forms to express what the forms were never intended to express (and may very well operate to conceal).

[T]here is one and only one way to possess that in which we are defective, therefore that which we need, therefore that which we want. Become it.

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.

To die on a dying Earth - I'd live, if only to weep

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”.