If I Don't Write, I Begin To

A General Rule: If Enough People Predict Something, It Won't Happen.

'what Was Being On The Moon Literally Like?' [. . .] 'being On The Moon?' His Tired Gaze Inspected The Narrow Street Of Cheap Jewellery Stores, With Its Office Messengers And Lottery Touts, The Off-duty Taxi-drivers Leaning Against Their Cars. 'it Was Just Like Being Here.'

The Enormous Energy Of The Twentieth Century, Enough To Drive The Planet Into A New Orbit Around A Happier Star, Was Being Expended To Maintain This Immense Motionless Pause.

Everything Is Becoming Science Fiction. From The Margins Of An Almost Invisible Literature Has Sprung The Intact Reality Of The 20th Century.

If Their Work Is Satisfying People Don't Need Leisure In The Old-fashioned Sense. No One Ever Asks What Newton Or Darwin Did To Relax, Or How Bach Spent His Weekends. At Eden-olympia Work Is The Ultimate Play, And Play The Ultimate Work.