We Do Not Have An Ideal World,

I Was Twelve When I Read My First Sf Magazine

The True Measure Of A Man Is Not His Intelligence Or How High He Rises In This Freak Establishment. No, The True Measure Of A Man Is This: How Quickly Can He Respond To The Needs Of Others And How Much Of Himself He Can Give.

Skill Is A Function Of Chance. It’s An Intuitive Best-use Of Chance Situations.

Life Is Short, He Thought. Art, Or Something Not Life, Is Long, Stretching Out Endless, Like [a] Concrete Worm. Flat, White, Unsmoothed By Any Passage Over Or Across It.

There Will Come A Time When It Isn't 'they're Spying On Me Through My Phone' Anymore. Eventually, It Will Be 'my Phone Is Spying On Me'.