I am a monopolar depressive descended from monopolar depressives. That's how come I write so good.

People need good lies. There are too many bad ones.

Take it moment by moment, and you will find that we are all, as I’ve said before, bugs in amber.

I thought scientists were going to find out exactly how everything worked, and then make it work better. I fully expected that by the time I was twenty-one, some scientist, maybe my brother, would have taken a color photograph of God Almighty—and sold it to Popular Mechanics magazine. Scientific truth was going to make us so happy and comfortable. What actually happened when I was twenty-one was that we dropped scientific truth on Hiroshima.

Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is.

Among the things Billy Pilgrim could not change were the past, the present, and the future.

I beg you to believe the most ridiculous superstition of all: that humanity is at the center of the universe, the fulfiller or frustrateor of the grandest dreams of God Almighty.