The umpire had comical news. The congregation had been theoretically spotted from the air by a theoretical enemy. They were all theoretically dead now. The theoretical corpses laughed and ate a hearty noontime meal.

Where men had once howled and hacked at one another, and fought nip-and-tuck with nature as well, the machines hummed and whirred and clicked, and made parts for baby carriages and bottle caps, motorcycles and refrigerators, television sets and tricycles-the fruits of peace.

Harry closed his eyes. He never wanted to open them again. His heart sent this message to his molecules: "For reasons obvious to all of us, this galaxy is dissolved!

The best jokes are dangerous, and dangerous because they are in some way truthful.

I thought scientists were going to find out exactly how everything worked, and then make it work better.

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

Music makes practically everybody fonder of life than he or she would be without it.