I couldn't help wondering if that was what God put me on Earth for--to find out how much a man could take without breaking.

I was clasified as a 'Science Fiction' writer simply because I wrote about Schenectady.

They say, you know, about evolution, it surely happened because their fossil record shows that. Look, my body and your body are miracles of design. Scientists are pretending they have the answer as how we got this way when natural selection couldn't possibly have produced such machines.

I would not be interested in writing if I didn't feel that what I wrote was an act of good citizenship or an attempt, at any rate, to be a good citizen.

Or they'll talk about fear, which we used to call politics- job politics, social politics, government politics.

A lover's a liar, To himself he lies, The truthful are loveless, Like oysters their eyes!

Hate, in the long run, is about as nourishing as cyanide.