I hate no one, sir. It seems a waste of emotional energy.

It was like that all the time, in those years: an endless trip, a gaudy voyage. But powers decay. Time leaches the colors from the best of visions. The world becomes grayer. Entropy beats us down. Everything fades. Everything goes. Everything dies.

My temperament is not inclined toward more self-promotion than is absolutely necessary for my professional well-being.

We are born by accident into a purely random universe.

Stale is stale and borrowed is borrowed, no matter how original your models may have been.

The denizens of Citizens Service Houses are not, as a rule, gifted with a lot of common sense, but they often make up for that by being extremely argumentative and vindictive.

I find the world and all it contains extremely fascinating. Is this sinful?