It Was The Single Forgiving Phrase In

Science Casts A Long Black Shadow Back Over Who We Think We Are, And Where It Falls The Temperature Falls With It. Its Touch Is Chilly And Unforgiving.

In The Future, Maybe Quantum Mechanics Will Teach Us Something Equally Chilling About Exactly How We Exist From Moment To Moment Of What We Like To Think Of As Time.

I've Been Accused Countless Times Of Writing Gloomy Futures. But To Me, The Texture Of My Sci-fi Just Feels Like An Extrapolation Of Current Trends.

A Preoccupation With The Next World Clearly Shows An Inability To Cope Credibly With This One.

I Think By Definition You Need To Have Lived A Little Bit To Write Anything That's Humanly True.