Creatures which, lacking mankind's superior brain power, did not concern themselves with finding someone to blame, and instead tried to find someone to eat.

They'd smash up the world if they thought it would make a pretty noise.

The truth is that even big collections of ordinary books distort space, as can readily be proved by anyone who has been around a really old-fashioned secondhand bookshop, one that looks as though they were designed by M. Escher on a bad day and has more stairways than storeys and those rows of shelves which end in little doors that are surely too small for a full-sized human to enter. The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read.

After all, when you seek advice from someone it's certainly not because you want them to give it. You just want them to be there while you talk to yourself.

I don’t see why it matters what is written. Not when it’s about people. It can always be crossed out.

The trouble was that he was talking in philosophy but they were listening in gibberish.

You can't inspire people with facts. They need a cause. They need a symbol.