Trout's leading robot looked like a human being, and could talk and dance and so on, and go out with girls. And nobody held it against him that he dropped jellied gasoline on people. But they found his halitosis unforgivable. But then he cleared that up, and he was welcomed to the human race.

For a Russian to be chivalrous with an American is a spiritual impossibility, a conradiction in terms.

There's only one rule that I know of, babies—God damn it, you've got to be kind.

You can't help it but you were born without a heart. At least you tried to believe what the people with hearts believed — so you were a good man just the same.

She was a dull person, but a sensational invitation to make babies.

I have no culture, no humane harmony in my brains. I can't live without a culture anymore.

If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.