There Are People Who Would Love To

If You Could Really Guarantee That The Money Would Be Spent On Something More Worthwhile, I'd Say, Absolutely, Scrap The Space Program, But It Never Works That Way.

It Is Astounding To Me, And Achingly Sad, That With Eighty Thousand People On The Waiting List For Donated Hearts And Livers And Kidneys, With Sixteen A Day Dying There On That List, That More Then Half Of The People In The Position H's Family Was In Will Say No, Will Choose To Burn Those Organs Or Let Them Rot. We Abide The Surgeon's Scalpel To Save Our Own Lives, Out Loved Ones' Lives, But Not To Save A Stranger's Life. H Has No Heart, But Heartless Is The Last Thing You'd Call Her.

Nasa Might Do Well To Adopt The Red Bull Approach To Branding And Astronautics. Suddenly The Man In The Spacesuit Is Not An Underpaid Civil Servant; He's The Ultimate Extreme Athlete. Red Bull Knows How To Make Space Hip.

Gravity Disappears Again, And We Rise Up Off The Floor Like Spooks From A Grave. It's Like The Rapture In Here Every Thirty Seconds.

Many People Will Find This Book Disrespectful. There Is Nothing Amusing About Being Dead, They Will Say. Ah, But There Is.