Nothing Is Stranger To Man Than His

Robots Of The World, You Are Ordered To Exterminate The Human Race. Do Not Spare The Men. Do Not Spare The Women. Preserve Only The Factories, Railroads, Machines, Mines, And Raw Materials. Destroy Everything Else. Then Return To Work. Work Must Not Cease.

You Still Stand Watch, O Human Star, Burning Without A Flicker, Perfect Flame, Bright And Resourceful Spirit. Each Of Your Rays A Great Idea - O Torch Which Passes From Hand To Hand, From Age To Age, World Without End.

I Find That A Real Gardener Is Not A Man Who Cultivates Flowers; He Is A Man Who Cultivates The Soil. He Is A Creature Who Digs Himself Into The Earth And Leaves The Sight Of What Is On It To Us Gaping Good-for-nothings. He Lives Buried In The Ground. He Builds His Monument In A Heap Of Compost. If He Came Into The Garden Of Eden, He Would Sniff Excitedly And Say: "good Lord, What Humus!"

Robots Do Not Hold On To Life. They Can't. They Have Nothing To Hold On With - No Soul, No Instinct. Grass Has More Will To Live Than They Do.

Much Melancholy Has Devolved Upon Mankind, And It Is Detestable To Me That Might Will Triumph In The End...