Mostly Harmless (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, #5)

by Douglas Adams

For many of the company’s employees, the layout of their offices represented the only constant they knew in a severely distorted personal universe.

“What’s been happening here?” he demanded. “Oh, just the nicest things, sir, just the nicest possible things. Can I sit on your lap, please?”

no one in their right minds would want to buy a NowWhattian boghog skin. The trade only hung on by its fingernails because there was always a significant number of people in the Galaxy who were not in their right minds.

He had half a mind just to wander off again, but felt awkward about leaving a pile of his vomit in front of the entrance to the woman’s home. He wondered what to do about it.

“A beach house isn’t just real estate. It’s a state of mind,” said the man. He turned and looked at Arthur.

‘Protect me from knowing what I don’t need to know. Protect me from even knowing that there are things to know that I don’t know. Protect

me from knowing that I decided not to know about the things that I decided not to know about. Amen.’

The engineers who designed the windows had not expected them to be hit by a rocket from short range from the inside, so the window had failed.

“I gurgle with pleasure,” said Colin.

They had only ever seen one spaceship crash, and it had been so frightening, violent and shocking and had caused so much horrible devastation, fire and death that, stupidly, they had never realized it was entertainment.

his brain was beginning to howl and gibber.

“I think we have different value systems.” “Well, mine’s better.”