Practically All Sf Is Trash.

So One Must Be Resigned To Being A Clock That Measures The Passage Of Time, Now Out Of Order, Now Repaired, And Whose Mechanism Generates Despair And Love As Soon As Its Maker Sets It Going? Are We To Grow Used To The Idea That Every Man Relives Ancient Torments, Which Are All The More Profound Because They Grow Comic With Repetition? 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.

If Man Had More Of A Sense Of Humor, Things Might Have Turned Out Differently.

The First 90% Of The Job Takes 90% Of The Time. The Remaining 10% Of The Job Requires Another 90% Of The Time. The First Condition Of Immortality Is Death.

Seduced, Shaggy Samson Snored. She Scissored Short. Sorely Shorn, Soon Shackled Slave, Samson Sighed, Silently Scheming, Sightlessly Seeking Some Savage, Spectacular Suicide.

A Candidate Is A Person Who Gets Money From The Rich And Votes From The Poor To Protect Them From Each Other.