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he hit a series of terrific bumps put in the road to discourage speeders, to kill them, if possible.
"Sure," said Harry, his eyes still on her. Those eyes burned up clothes faster than she could put them on.
If I’ve learned one thing from working with all you wonderful people out there, it’s this: if folks would swallow their self-respect and pride, there wouldn’t be any more divorces!"
"I swear," Grace said, "I’ll never understand how so many artists are men. No man I ever met had a grain of artistic temperament in him."
Fred Bockman is thirty and looks eighteen. Life has left no marks on him, because he hasn’t paid much attention to it.
The question is not whether euphio works. It does. The question is, rather, whether or not America is to enter a new and distressing phase of history where men no longer pursue happiness but buy it.
I never saw such a peculiar expression on a man’s face. He was all red, and there were tears in his eyes—but there was this crazy laugh tearing him apart, trying to get out.
You people around here don’t grasp the thistle firmly." He had to explain that to me, about how a thistle won’t prick you if you grab it real hard and fast.
Usually, the enemy is talking about old-style reproduction, which is the clumsiest, most comical, most inconvenient thing anyone could imagine, compared with what the amphibians have in that line. If they aren’t talking about that, then they’re talking about food, the gobs of chemicals they have to stuff into their bodies. Or they’ll talk about fear, which we used to call politics—job politics, social politics, government politics.
I guess there is a war on between them and us. But we never do anything about holding up our side of the war, except to keep our parade sites and our storage centers secret, and to get out of bodies every time there’s an air raid, or the enemy fires a rocket, or something.
C Band set out in its quest for beauty—set out like a rusty switch engine, with valves stuck, pipes clogged, unions leaking, bearings dry.
"One nice thing about flying," he said to me that night. "What’s that?" I said. "You never know how bad it is till it’s too late," he said, "and when it happens, it happens so fast you never know what hit you."
