We Are Like Snails, Each Stuck To

This Is Another Lie. We Are Only Seeking Man. We Have No Need Of Other Worlds. A Single World, Our Own, Suffices Us; But We Can't Accept It For What It Is. We Are Searching For An Ideal Image Of Our Own World: We Go In Quest Of A Planet, A Civilization Superior To Our Own But Developed On The Basis Of A Prototype Of Our Primeval Past.

I Hadn't Known There Were So Many Idiots In The World Until I Started Using The Internet.

And Yet We Knew, For A Certainty, That When First Emissaries Of Earth Went Walking Among The Planets, Earth's Other Sons Would Be Dreaming Not About Such Expeditions But About A Piece Of Bread.

I Believe In No Final Solutions.

Nothing, My Dear And Clever Colleague, Is Not Your Run-of-the-mill Nothing, The Result Of Idleness And Inactivity, But Dynamic, Aggressive Nothingness, That Is To Say, Perfect, Unique, Ubiquitous, In Other Words Nonexistence, Ultimate And Supreme.