Mirrors And Images. Or Sex And Love.

A Writer Takes Earnest Measures To Secure His Solitude And Then Finds Endless Ways To Squander It.

People Will Not Die. Isn't This The Creed Of The New Culture? People Will Be Absorbed In Streams Of Information. I Know Nothing About This. Computers Will Die. They're Dying In Their Present Form. They're Just About Dead As Distinct Units.

May The Days Be Aimless. Do Not Advance Action According To A Plan.

We Feel Certain That The Extraterrestrial Message Is A Mathematical Code Of Some Kind. Probably A Number Code. Mathematics Is The One Language We Might Conceivably Have In Common With Other Forms Of Intelligent Life In The Universe. As I Understand It, There Is No Reality More Independent Of Our Perception And More True To Itself Than Mathematical Reality.

No Sense Of The Irony Of Human Experience, That We Are The Highest Form Of Life On Earth, And Yet Ineffably Sad Because We Know What No Other Animal Knows, That We Must Die.