The general public has long been divided into two parts; those who think that science can do anything and those who are afraid it will.

I dream that I have found us both again, With spring so many strangers' lives away, And we, so free, Out walking by the sea, With someone else's paper words to say.... They took us at the gates of green return, Too lost by then to stop, and ask them why- Do children meet again? Does any trace remain, Along the superhighways of July?

Some typewriters in Whitehall, in the Pentagon, killed more civilians than our little A4 could have ever hoped to.

All investigations of Time, however sophisticated or abstract, have at their true base the human fear of mortality.

My belief is that "recluse" is a code word generated by journalists... meaning, "doesn't like to talk to reporters."

Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you.

Shall I project a world?