They plot, they plot, sleeping or afoot they never let up.

Everybody gets told to write about what they know. The trouble with many of us is that at the earlier stages of life we think we know everything- or to put it more usefully, we are often unaware of the scope and structure of our ignorance.

All the animals, the plants, the minerals, even other kinds of men, are being broken and reassembled every day, to preserve an elite few, who are the loudest to theorize on freedom, but the least free of all.

But as with Maxwell's Demon, so now. Either she could not communicate, or he did not exist.

Explosion without an objective', declared Miles Blundell, 'is politics in its purest form'.

What, I should only trust good people? Man, good people get bought and sold every day. Might as well trust somebody evil once in a while, it makes no more or less sense.

The hand of Providence creeps among the stars, giving Slothrop the finger.