The Problems Of Today's Youth Were No

Me, I Have A Science Fiction Writer's Conviction That The Damn Robot Is Supposed To Speak Human, Not The Other Way Around.

It Took Me Better Than A Quarter Century To Learn, The Hard Way, That Hard Work At Something You Want To Be Doing Is The Most Fun That You Can Have Out Of Bed . . . To Learn That The Smart Man Finds Ways To Make Everything He Does Be Work; To Learn That "leisure" Time Is Truly Pleasurable (indeed Tolerable) Only To The Extent That Is Its Subconscious Grazing For Information With Which To Infuse Newer, Better Work.

We Did Make Use, From Time To Time, Of Candles, Neckties, Scarves, Shoelaces, A Little Water-color Paintbrush, Her Hairbrush, Butter, Whipped Cream, Strawberry Jam, Johnson’s Baby Oil, My Swedish Hand Vibrator, A Fascinating Bead Necklace She Had, Miscellaneous Common Household Items, And Every Molecule Of Flesh That Was Exposed To Air Or Could Be Located With Strenuous Search.

We Are All Time Travelers Moving At The Speed Of Exactly 60 Minutes Per Hour.

You Become Uneasy With People In Direct Proportion To How Many Lies You Have To Keep Track Of In Their Presence.