So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, #4)

by Douglas Adams

He had a major piece of unfinished business that he would now be able to attend to, and he was terribly pleased that life had suddenly furnished him with a serious goal to achieve.

Relax, don’t panic, concentrate on breathing deeply.

Only the eyes still said that whatever it was the Universe thought it was doing to him, he would still like it please to stop.

“Where was I?” he said. “In a trance,” said one. “In a tank,” said another.

For twenty

He had lost everything he cared for, and was now simply waiting for the end of the world—little realizing that it had already been and gone.

“Perhaps you can do what I can do,” he said, and walked straight out of her upstairs front door. The record got to the good bit.

this guy has a whole new career ahead of him, just avoiding places for money.

Their mood gradually lifted as they walked along the beach in Malibu and watched all the millionaires in their chic shanty huts carefully keeping an eye on one another to check how rich they were each getting.

“I think,” he murmured at last from deep within his corroding, rattling thorax, “I feel good about it.” The lights went out in his eyes for absolutely the very last time ever.