He glanced back at the wall. How like a mirror, too, her face. Impossible; for how many people did you know who reflected your own light to you? People were more often--he searched for a simile, found one in his work--torches, blazing away until they whiffed out. How rarely did other people's faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression, your own innermost trembling thought?

Kerosene," he said, because the silence had lengthened, "is nothing but perfume to me.

The automobile is the most dangerous weapon in our society - cars kill more than wars do.

In our time the search for extraterrestrial life will eventually change our laws, our religions, our philosophies, our arts, our recreations, as well as our sciences. Space, the mirror, waits for life to come look for itself there.

I have my favorite cat, who is my paperweight, on my desk while I am writing.

I’m really alive! he thought. I never knew it before, or if I did I don’t remember!

We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while.