The real origin of science fiction lay in the seventeeth-century novels of exploration in fabulous lands. Therefore Jules Verne's story of travel to the moon is not science fiction because they go by rocket but because of where they go. It would be as much science fiction if they went by rubber band.

My schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression.

Madness has its own dynamism. It just goes on.

We do not have an ideal world, such as we would like, where morality is easy because cognition is easy. Where one can do right with no effort because he can detect the obvious.

Writing is a lonely way of life. You shut yourself up in your study and work and work.

There is no route out of the maze. The maze shifts as you move through it, because it is alive.

The mentally disturbed do not employ the Principle of Scientific Parsimony: the most simple theory to explain a given set of facts. They shoot for the baroque.