What could be safer than the bus center with its lamps and wheels?

Simon became inarticulate in his effort to express mankind's essential illness.

I wouldn't have thought that the techniques of story-telling, which is what the novel is after all, can vary much because there are two things involved.There's a story and there's a listener, whose attention you have to keep. Now the only way in which you can keep a reader's attention to a story is in his wanting to know what is going to happen next. This puts a fairly close restriction on the method you must use.

One's intelligence may march about and about a problem, but the solution does not come gradually into view. One moment it is not. The next it is there.

The water rose further and dressed Simon's coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble.

Maybe half a dozen think they are a community, but, in general terms, I think English writers tend to face outwards, away from each other, and write in their own patch, as it were.

How would I myself live in this proposed society? How long would it be before I went stark staring mad?