Practically All Sf Is Trash.

Art Gives Man A Reminder That He Is Not Just A Consumer But A Creator As Well. It Awakens In Him The Urge To Struggle And Perform Great Deeds; It Fills Him With The Craving To Pass On The Promethean Fire To Generations To Come.

In Riemann, Hilbert Or In Banach Space Let Superscripts And Subscripts Go Their Ways. Our Symptotes No Longer Out Of Phase, We Shall Encounter, Counting, Face To Face.

Really, One Of Us Ought To Have The Courage To Call The Experiment Off And Shoulder The Responsibility For The Decision, But The Majority Reckons That That Kind Of Courage Would Be A Sign Of Cowardice, And The First Step In A Retreat. They Think It Would Mean An Undignified Surrender For Mankind As If There Was Any Dignity In Floundering And Drowning In What We Don't Understand And Never Will.

People Make Filthy Things With The Freedom They Regained.

...it Is Easy Not To Believe In Monsters, Considerably More Difficult To Escape Their Dread And Loathsome Clutches.