Well, there was stuff going on, heroic events. One was what used to be, and probably still is, the largest moving project in history. The headquarters of the Bell Telephone Company used to be brick. What they did was take the old brick building - with the operators in there saying, "Number please" and all that - and they put it through a quarter of a turn and moved it half a block!

They were lovebirds. They entertained each other endlessly with little gifts: sights worth seeing out the plane window, amusing or instructive bits from things they read, random recollections of times gone by. They were, I think, a flawless example of what Bokonon calls a duprass, which is a karass composed of only two persons.

Nobody will stop you from creating. Do it tonight. Do it tomorrow. That is the way to make your soul grow.

Wake up, you idiots! Whatever made you think that money was so valuable?

What is flirtatiousness but an argument that life must go on and on and on?

Hitler at the end thought that he himself was one more casualty in the war.

Literature is by definition opinionated. It is bound to provoke the arguments in many quarters, not excluding the hometown or even the family of the author.