(on being born on Christmas Day, 1924) I was a Christmas present that was delivered unwrapped.

You're looking at a species of flimsy little two-legged animals with extremely small heads whose name is Man...Very tiny undeveloped brain; comes from primitive planet named Earth. Calls himself 'Samuel Conrad'. And he will remain here in his cage with the running water and the electricity and the central heat- as long as he lives. Samuel Conrad has found the Twilight Zone.

I guess we all have a little vaunting itch for immortality, I guess that must be it.

Up there, up there in the vastness of space, in the void that is sky, up there is an enemy known as isolation. It sits there in the stars waiting, waiting with the patience of eons, forever waiting in the Twilight Zone.

I don't know what my friends do. Generally they become producers. That way they can stop writing!

Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize the worth, the dignity, the rights of Man, that state is obsolete.

The tendency when you dictate is to overwrite, because you're not counting pages, you don't really know what the hell the page count is.