Maybe you reach a certain point in evolution where boredom is the greatest threat to your survival. Maybe this isn't a planetary takeover at all, but a game. Like a kid pulling wings off flies.

Because promises matter. They matter now more than ever.

I don't care what the stars say about how small we are. One, even the smallest, weakest, most insignificant one, matters.

We are slaves, all of us...Some are slaves to fear. Others are slaves to reason—or base desire. It is our lot to be slaves...and the question must be to what shall we owe our indenture? Will it be to truth or to falsehood, hope or despair, light or darkness? I choose to serve the light, even though that bondage often lies in darkness.

The harder survival becomes, the more you want to pull together. And the more you want to pull together, the harder survival becomes.

To hell with monsters and to hell with men. There is no difference to me.

But monsters, I now know, come in all shapes and sizes, and only their appetite for human flesh defines them.