The Day Of The Android

Writers Must Fortify Themselves With Pride And Egotism As Best They Can. The Process Is Analogous To Using Sandbags And Loose Timbers To Protect A House Against Flood. Writers Are Vulnerable Creatures Like Anyone Else. For What Do They Have In Reality? Not Sandbags, Not Timbers. Just A Flimsy Reputation And A Name.

Its At Night, When Perhaps We Should Be Dreaming, That The Mind Is Most Clear, That We Are Most Able To Hold All Our Life In The Palm Of Our Skull. I Dont Know If Anyone Has Ever Pointed Out That Great Attraction Of Insomnia Before, But It Is So; The Night Seems To Release A Little More Of Our Vast Backward Inheritance Of Instincts And Feelings; As With The Dawn, A Little Honey Is Allowed To Ooze Between The Lips Of The Sandwich, A Little Of The Stuff Of Dreams To Drip Into The Waking Mind.

I Was Hardly Fit For Human Society. Thus Destiny Shaped Me To Be A Science Fiction Writer.

I Have Had Wealth, Rank And Power, But, If These Were All I Had, How Wretched I Should Be.

Let's Have A Toast - To The Future Generation Of Consumers, However Many Heads Or Assholes They Have!