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REPORTER: I mean, would our clothes teleport with us? THOMPSON: When people teleport, they also teleport the clothes they wear and whatever they are strong enough to carry. I hate to disappoint you, but even ladies’ clothes would arrive with them.
Of all brutes in the world he was among the least valuable alive and most likely to survive.
“That’s the basic weakness in routine intelligence procedure; you start finessing before finesse is required.”
“We always do what’s natural, only sometimes we shouldn’t do it.”
“You’ve got sex on the brain,” he said gently. “I’m not looking for tarts. They look for me, as a rule.”
“No. It’s a shocking waste of money. The whole point of extravagance is to act like a fool and feel like a fool, but enjoy it. Where’s the joy in perpetual motion? Is there any extravagance in entropy? Millions for nonsense but not one cent for entropy. My slogan.”
“Did you ever stop to think what swearing is?” Robin asked quietly. “You say ‘Jesus’ and ‘Jesus Christ.’ Do you know what that is?” “Just swearing, that’s all. Like ‘ouch’ or ‘damn.’” “No, it’s religion. You don’t know it, but there are two thousand years of meaning behind words like that.” “This is no time for dirty talk,” Foyle said impatiently. “Save it for later. Come on.”
“Yes, no matter how we defend ourselves against the outside we’re always licked by something from the inside. There’s no defense against betrayal, and we all betray ourselves.”
“There’s a gentleman in your office.” “He made you let him get that far?” Sheffield looked impressed. “Who is he? God, or somebody?”
“For what crime?” “Crimes.” “Name two.” “Robbery and rape.” “Name two more.” “Blackmail and murder.” “Any other items?” “Treason and genocide.” “Does that exhaust your catalogue?” “I think so. We may be able to unveil a few more when we get specific.” “Been busy, haven’t you? Either you’re the Prince of Villains or insane.” “I’ve been both, Mr. Sheffield.”
“I don’t mean that. A criminal never surrenders while he’s ahead. You’re obviously ahead. What’s the reason?” “The most damnable thing that ever happened to a man. I picked up a rare disease called conscience.” Sheffield snorted. “That can often turn fatal.”
He jaunted along the space-time geodesics to Elsewheres and Elsewhens, translating “i,” the square root of minus one, from an imaginary number into reality by a magnificent act of imagination.
“You’re all freaks, sir. But you always have been freaks. Life is a freak. That’s its hope and glory.”
“It isn’t necessary to have something to believe in. It’s only necessary to believe that somewhere there’s something worthy of belief.”
