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“Fifty years,” I hackneyed, “is a long time.” “Not when you’re looking back at them,” she said. “You wonder how they vanished so quickly.”
You can prove anything you want by coldly logical reason—if you pick the proper postulates.
He was a tiny white thread of ego—cold and afraid.
“Oh, are robots so different from men, mentally?” “Worlds different.” She allowed herself a frosty smile, “Robots are essentially decent.”
I like robots. I like them considerably better than I do human beings.
People say ‘It’s as plain as the nose on your face.’ But how much of the nose on your face can you see, unless someone holds a mirror up to you?
