The Night Stared Me In The Face,

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

A Writer Should Not Run Around With A Mirror For His Countrymen; He Should Tell His Society And His Times Things No One Ever Thought Before.

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.

It Is Not Good For A Man To Be Too Cognizant Of His Physical And Spiritual Mechanisms. Complete Knowledge Reveals Limits To Human Possibilities, And The Less A Man Is By Nature Limited In His Purposes, The Less He Can Tolerate Limits.

This Is Another Lie. We Are Only Seeking Man. We Have No Need Of Other Worlds. A Single World, Our Own, Suffices Us; But We Can't Accept It For What It Is. We Are Searching For An Ideal Image Of Our Own World: We Go In Quest Of A Planet, A Civilization Superior To Our Own But Developed On The Basis Of A Prototype Of Our Primeval Past.