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There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another which states that this has already happened.
“If I ever meet myself,” said Zaphod, “I’ll hit myself so hard I won’t know what’s hit me.”
if life is going to exist in a Universe of this size, then the one thing it cannot afford to have is a sense of proportion.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve been around. They want me to find the man who rules the Universe, but I don’t care to meet him. I believe the man can’t cook.”
Ford had another Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, the drink which has been described as the alcoholic equivalent of a mugging—expensive and bad for the head.
Nevertheless, like every parking lot in the Galaxy throughout the entire history of parking lots, this parking lot smelled predominantly of impatience.
“No, really we are,” said Trillian and patted him in a way that he disliked intensely, “hanging around waiting for us all this time.” “Five hundred and seventy-six thousand million, three thousand five hundred and seventy-nine years,” said Marvin. “I counted them.” “Well, here we are now,” said Trillian, feeling—quite correctly in Marvin’s view—that it was a slightly foolish thing to say. “The first ten million years were the worst,” said Marvin, “and the second ten million years, they were the worst too. The third ten million I didn’t enjoy at all. After that I went into a bit of a decline.”
“It’s the people you meet in this job that really get you down,” he said and paused again.
“Don’t mention it,” said Marvin. “Oh, you didn’t.” He trudged away again.
“Er, how are we for time?” he said. “Have I just got a min—” And so the Universe ended.
