Time Is A Drug. Too Much Of

I Mean, You're Right About The Fire And War, All That. But That Rapture Stuff--well, If You Could See Them All In Heaven--serried Ranks Of Them As Far As The Mind Can Follow And Beyond, League After League Of Us, Flaming Swords, All That, Well, What I'm Trying To Say Is Who Has Time To Go Round Picking People Out And Popping Them Up In The Air To Sneer At The People Dying Of Radiation Sickness On The Parched And Burning Earth Below Them? If That's Your Idea Of A Morally Acceptable Time, I Might Add.

Everything Makes Sense A Bit At A Time. But When You Try To Think Of It All At Once, It Comes Out Wrong.

His Mind Worked Fast, Flying In Emergency Supplies Of Common Sense, As Human Minds Do, To Construct A Huge Anchor In Sanity And Prove That What Happened Hadn't Really Happened And, If It Had Happened, Hadn't Happened Much.

It Is Possibly Worth Mentioning At This Point That Mr. Young Thought That Paparazzi Was A Kind Of Italian Linoleum.

People Are Content To Wait A Long Time For Salvation, But Prefer Dinner To Turn Up Inside An Hour.