As Machines Get To Be More And

The Mind Leaps, And Leaps Perhaps With A Sort Of Elation, Through The Immensities Of Space, But The Spirit, Frightened And Cold, Longs To Have Once More Above Its Head The Inverted Bowl Beyond Which May Lie Whatever Paradise Its Desires May Create.

Anxiety And Distress, Interrupted Occasionally By Pleasure, Is The Normal Course Of Man's Existence.

Though We Face The Facts Of Sex We Are More Reluctant Than Ever To Face The Fact Of Death Or The Crueler Facts Of Life, Either Biological Or Social.

The Snow Itself Is Lonely Or, If You Prefer, Self-sufficient. There Is No Other Time When The Whole World Seems Composed Of One Thing And One Thing Only.

Being The Inventor Of Sex Would Seem To Be A Sufficient Distinction For A Creature Just Barely Large Enough To Be Seen By The Naked Eye.