The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, #1)

by Douglas Adams

‘Do you want me to sit in a corner and rust, or just fall apart where I’m standing?’

There are of course many problems connected with life, of which some of the most popular are: Why are people born? Why do they die? Why do they want to spend so much of the intervening time wearing digital watches?

‘Now see here, guy,’ said the voice on the loud hailer, ‘you’re not dealing with any dumb two-bit trigger-pumping morons with low hairlines, little piggy eyes and no conversation, we’re a couple of intelligent caring guys that you’d probably quite like if you met us socially! I don’t go around gratuitously shooting people and then bragging about it afterwards in seedy space-rangers’ bars, like some cops I could mention! I go around shooting people gratuitously and then I agonize about it afterwards for hours to my girlfriend!’