While I'm Working On A Book, I

A Nation Fights Well In Proportion To The Amount Of Men And Materials It Has. And The Other Equation Is That The Individual Soldier In That Army Is A More Effective Soldier The Poorer His Standard Of Living Has Been In The Past.

Mailer's Law: A Thing Either Gets Better Or It Costs More To Run It The Way It Was.

Armstrong, Sitting In The Commander's Seat, Spacesuit On, Helmet On, Plugged Into Electrical And Environmental Umbilical's, Is A Man Who Is Not Only A Machine Himself In The Links Of These Networks, But Is Also A Man Sitting In (what Collins Is Later To Call) A 'mini-cathedral.' A Man Somewhat More Than A Pilot, Somewhat More Than A Superpilot, Is In Fact A Veritable High Priest Of The Forces Of Society And Scientific History Concentrated In That Mini Cathedral, A General Of The Church Of The Forces Of Technology.

Every Moment Of One's Existence One Is Growing Into More Or Retreating Into Less. One Is Always Living A Little More Or Dying A Little Bit.

Los Angeles Is A Constellation Of Plastic.