It Was The Day My Grandmother Exploded.

By The Usual Reckoning, The Worst Books Make The Best Films.

A Guilty System Recognizes No Innocents.

Even Galaxy-spanning Anarchist Utopias Of Stupefying Full-spectrum Civilisational Power Have Turf Wars Within Their Unacknowledged Militaries.

People Were Always Sorry. Sorry They Had Done What They Had Done, Sorry They Were Doing What They Were Doing, Sorry They Were Going To Do What They Were Going To Do; But They Still Did Whatever It Is. The Sorrow Never Stopped Them; It Just Made Them Feel Better. And So The Sorrow Never Stopped.

Look At These Humans! How Could Such Glacial Slowness Even Be Called Life? An Age Could Pass, Virtual Empires Rise And Fall In The Time They Took To Open Their Mouths To Utter Some New Inanity!