And Another Thing... (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, #6)

by Eoin Colfer

Many species choose to define their adolescent periods with sustained truculent silences and the heartfelt belief that their parents took the wrong baby home from the hospital because their natural parents could not possibly be so mind-warpingly dense and boooring.

Some people are bastards and should never be left in charge.

Ford squinted at him. “That’s more sarcasm, is it?” “No. It’s a genuine question born of ignorance.”

Ford cradled Arthur’s cheeks in his palms. “Life is about moments, Arthur,” he said seriously. “That’s the secret. Moments are longer than you think. If you add up all the good moments, then, you know. It’s like ages.”

“I never read press. You start believing it, you see.

Throughout recorded history the ability to “state one’s case well” has generally had about as much success as “talking things out reasonably” or “putting aside our differences.” The people who use these tactics generally mean well and would make excellent motivational speakers or kindergarten teachers, but on no account should they be put in charge of situations where lives are at stake.

The notion that religions can be useful tools for keeping the rich rich and the poor abject has been around since shortly after the dawn of time, when a recently evolved bipedal frogget managed to convince all the other froggets in the marsh that their fates were governed by the almighty Lily Pad who would only agree to watch over their pond and keep it safe from gurner pike if an offering of flies and small reptiles was heaped upon it every second Friday.

The natural order was falling apart and all sorts of people were beginning to consider themselves equal to those who obviously were equal, which is not what religion was about at all.

Being in charge of this crowd of bloody eejits is running me ragged.”

Our last god was a less is more kinda guy. Sent his son down, but didn’t show up too often himself. I think, and no disrespect to the man himself, that was probably a mistake. I honestly believe that he would put his hand up to that himself now if we could ask him.

Zaphod pounded the air like a frustrated philosopher trying to force an existentialist concept into a pragmatist mind.

You have enough sheer bloody gall for an entire bucket of gallstones.”

Pex drew a rolled-up magazine from the front of his shorts, which was a bit of a letdown for the manicurist.

“Every new society has teething problems. You need to work through them with diplomacy and alcohol.”

“And how would sirs like their steak?” “Rare,” said Ford. “So rare a vet with some shock paddles could revive it.” “Medium for me, I think.”

Religion is the new atheism.

If gods already lived in heaven, then where did they go when they died? Were the gods autolatrous narcissists? Or did they perhaps worship their own übergods and move on to a higher level of heaven after their deaths? I have created a brand-new conundrum, he thought and the idea pleased him greatly.

Some things may flow downhill, but blame flows to the top,

“What you think is the happy ending is actually a brief respite before the serial killer that you thought was dead gets back up and butchers everyone except the girl with the biggest boobs, who dies first in the sequel the following year.”

“there is no such thing as an ending, or a beginning for that matter, everything is middle.”

That’s the thing with bullshit, his Nano used to say. You have to keep piling more on.