Man does not create gods, in spite of appearances. The times, the age, impose them on him.

And yet we knew, for a certainty, that when first emissaries of Earth went walking among the planets, Earth's other sons would be dreaming not about such expeditions but about a piece of bread.

He who has had, has been, but he who hasn't been, has been had.

It has no meaning, what do you use to write, the only thing that is important is: what do you write. A machine to write a book instead of a writer is not invented yet, and probably will never be.

Burn with that consuming fire of objectivity that forces a man to renew efforts that are doomed to failure.

A smart machine will first consider which is more worth its while: to perform the given task or, instead, to figure some way out of it.

The fate of a single man can be rich with significance, that of a few hundred less so, but the history of thousands and millions of men does not mean anything at all, in any adequate sense of the word.