The man gave a shrug which indicated that, although the world did indeed have many problems, this was one of them that was not his.

Young adults that actually read are reading bodice rippers and best-sellers and me. And Horror.

I [...] vowed that rather than let Alzheimer's take me, I would take it. I would live my life as ever to the full and die, ­before the disease mounted its last ­attack, in my own home, in a chair on the lawn, with a brandy in my hand to wash down whatever modern ­version of the "Brompton cocktail" some ­helpful medic could supply. And with ­Thomas Tallis on my iPod, I would shake hands with Death.

Humans! They lived in a world where the grass continued to be green and the sun rose every day and flowers regularly turned into fruit, and what impressed them? Weeping statues. And wine made out of water! A mere quantum-mechanistic tunnel effect, that'd happen anyway if you were prepared to wait zillions of years. As if the turning of sunlight into wine, by means of vines and grapes and time and enzymes, wasn't a thousand times more impressive and happened all the time.

They obeyed, as wise men do when a woman puts her foot down . . .

And what had he wanted? He'd never sat down to think about it. But mostly, he wanted yesterday to be different from today.

People who didn't need people needed people around to know that they were the kind of people who didn't need people.