Everything was becoming allegorical, understood by the group mind, and especially this: "You're either on the bus...or off the bus.

They were...well, Beautiful People! - not 'students', 'clerks', 'salesgirls', 'executive trainees' - Christ, don't give me your occupation-game labels! We are Beautiful People, ascendant from your robot junkyard.

If you label it this, then it can't be that.

Television reporters aren't really called reporters. They are called researchers. And that's really all they are.

Even hostile parodies admit from the start that the target has a distinct voice.

Miami is a melting pot in which none of the stones melt. They rattle around.

People complain about my exclamation points, but I honestly think that's the way people think. I don't think people think in essays; it's one exclamation point to another.