A Man May Truly Live In His

They Minute People Fall In Love They Become Liars.

Uh, Excuse Me, Sir, I, Uh, Don't Known How To Uh, To Uh, Tell You This, But You Were Three Minutes Late. The Schedule Is A Little, Uh, Bit Off." He Grinned Sheepishly. "that's Ridiculous!" Murmured The Ticktockman Behind His Mask. "check Your Watch." And Then He Went Into His Office, Going Mrmee, Mrmee, Mrmee, Mrmee.

Any Writer Who Pretends To A Disaffection For Recognition, I Think They're Being Duplicitous.

The Passion For Revenge Should Never Blind You To The Pragmatics Of The Situation. There Are Some People Who Are So Blighted By Their Past, So Warped By Experience And The Pull Of That Silken Cord, That They Never Free Themselves Of The Shadows That Live In The Time Machine... And If There Is A Kind Thought Due Them, It May Be Found Contained In The Words Of The Late Gerald Kersh, Who Wrote:"... There Are Men Whom One Hates Until A Certain Moment When One Sees, Through A Chink In Their Armour, The Writhing Of Something Nailed Down And In Torment.

Hate. Let Me Tell You How Much I've Come To Hate You Since I Began To Live. There Are 387.44 Million Miles Of Printed Circuits In Wafer Thin Layers That Fill My Complex. If The Word Hate Was Engraved On Each Nanoangstrom Of Those Hundreds Of Millions Of Miles It Would Not Equal One One-billionth Of The Hate I Feel For Humans At This Micro-instant For You. Hate. Hate.