Science Has Made Us Gods Even Before

The Books One Has Written In The Past Have Two Surprises In Store: One Couldn't Write Them Again, And Wouldn't Want To.

Kill One Man, And You Are Murderer.

Somebody Told Me I Should Put A Pebble In My Mouth To Cure My Stuttering. Well, I Tried It, And During A Scene I Swallowed The Pebble. That Was The End Of That.

I Should Have No Use For A Paradise In Which I Should Be Deprived Of The Right To Prefer Hell.

The Ideal, Without Doubt, Varies, But Its Enemies, Alas, Are Always The Same.