Science fiction is about what could be but isn't; fantasy is about what couldn't be.

He loved her, as you can only love someone who is an echo of yourself at your time of deepest sorrow.

Human: That's stupid. Isn't there grass on both sides?

I didn't want to see you." "They told me." "I was afraid that I'd still love you." "I hoped that you would.

Doesn't it make you wonder about your own sexual identity, not to mention your sanity, that the two women you love are, respectively, a virtual woman existing only in the transient ansible connections between computers and a woman whose soul is in fact that of a man who is the husband of your mother?

Unemployment is capitalism's way of getting you to plant a garden.

What else should you be? Human beings didn't evolve brains in order to lie around on lakes. Killing's the first thing we learned. And a good thing we did, or we'd be dead, and the tigers would own the earth.