What in Gods name is it worth to be human, if we have to be saved from ourselves by a machine?

Christ, what an imagination I've got!

As its best, SF is the medium in which our miserable certainty that tomorrow will be different from today in ways we cant predict, can be transmuted to a sense of excitement and anticipation, occasionally evolving into awe. Poised between intransigent scepticism and uncritical credulity, it is par excellence the literature of the open mind.

First you use machines, then you wear machines, and then ...? Then you serve machines.

Extremism. It is an almost infallible sign — a kind of death-rattle — when a human institution is forced by its members into stressing those and only those factors which are identificatory, at the expense of others which it necessarily shares with competing institutions because human beings belong to all of them.

Love and joy are incredibly habit-forming; often a single exposure is enough to cause permanent addiction.

It's supposed to be automatic but actually you have to press this button.