I Believe In No Final Solutions.

That Human Existence Should Repeat Itself, Well And Good, But That It Should Repeat Itself Like A Hackneyed Tune, Or A Record A Drunkard Keeps Playing As He Feeds Coins Into The Jukebox...

Each Civilization May Choose One Of Two Roads To Travel, That Is, Either Fret Itself To Death, Or Pet Itself To Death. And In The Course Of Doing One Or The Other, It Eats Its Way Into The Universe, Turning Cinders And Flinders Of Stars Into Toilet Seats, Pegs, Gears, Cigarette Holders And Pillowcases, And It Does This Because, Unable To Fathom The Universe, It Seeks To Change That Fathomlessness Into Something Fathomable.

Good Books Tell The Truth, Even When They're About Things That Never Have Been And Never Will Be. They're Truthful In A Different Way

We Have No Need Of Other Worlds. We Need Mirrors. We Don't Know What To Do With Other Worlds. A Single World, Our Own, Suffices Us; But We Can't Accept It For What It Is.

...it Is Easy Not To Believe In Monsters, Considerably More Difficult To Escape Their Dread And Loathsome Clutches.