Sit A Man On His Ass With

Science Fiction, As I Mentioned Before, Writes About What Is Neither Impossible Nor Possible; The Fact Is That, When The Question Of Possibility Comes Up In Science Fiction, The Author Can Only Reply That Nobody Knows. We Haven't Been There Yet. We Haven't Discovered That Yet. Science Fiction Hasn't Happened.

As My Mother Once Said: The Boys Throw Stones At The Frog In Jest. But The Frogs Die In Earnest.

....thinking You Are Attacking Society When You Condemn Or Ravage The Hypothetical Nice Girl Next Door Is The Exact Equivalent Of Thinking That Stealing From The Local Supermarket Makes You A Communist.

And Middle-class Women, Although Taught To Value Established Forms, Are In The Same Position As The Working Class: Neither Can Use Established Forms To Express What The Forms Were Never Intended To Express (and May Very Well Operate To Conceal).

Real Artists, It Seems To Me, Are Those Who Don't Repeat Themselves.