Practically All Sf Is Trash.

Cripple God, Who Always Desires More Than He's Able To Have, And Doesn't Always Realize This To Begin With. Who Has Built Clocks, But Not The Time That They Measure. Has Built Systems Or Mechanisms That Serve Particular Purposes, But They Too Have Outgrown These Purposes And Betrayed Them. And Has Created An Infinity That, From Being The Measure Of The Power He Was Supposed To Have, Turned Into The Measure Of His Boundless Failure.

Faith Is, At One And The Same Time, Absolutely Necessary And Altogether Impossible.

Man Does Not Create Gods, In Spite Of Appearances. The Times, The Age, Impose Them On Him.

The Only Writers Who Have Any Peace Are The Ones Who Don't Write. And There Are Some Like That. They Wallow In A Sea Of Possibilities. To Express A Thought, You First Have To Limit It, And That Means Kill It. Every Word I Speak Robs Me Of A Thousand Others, And Every Line I Write Means Giving Up Another.

A Smart Machine Will First Consider Which Is More Worth Its While: To Perform The Given Task Or, Instead, To Figure Some Way Out Of It.