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I am a writer and always was; being a writer is an integral part of my identity. Being published, being well regarded, is a component of that identity.
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The midwife bustled out to the four in the antechamber and announced that the Almighty (who had recently become a Protestant) had seen fit to bless milady with a son.
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The ambition of the original Frank had not died; it had grown subtler. It had become a wish to sample everything. The more bodily habitations there were with which to sample, the more tantalizing the idea seemed: for many experiences, belonging only to one brief era, are never repeated, and may be gone before they are perceived and tasted.
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Most SF is about madness, or what is currently ruled to be madness; this is part of its attraction - it's always playing with how much the human mind can encompass.
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If we can see our difficulties, there is a way of resolving them, or the hope of a way.
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The day of the android has dawned.
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Poor little warrior, science will never invent anything to assist the titanic death you want in the contra-terrene caverns of your fee-fi-fo-fumblingly fearful id!
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To be a standard shape is not all in life. To know is also important.
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The thing was not discussable, even with a near acquaintance like Calvin because … because of the nature of the thing … because one had to behave like a normal, unworried human being. That at least was sound and clear and gave him comfort: behave like a normal human being.
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At least the mentor’s point was made: loneliness was psychological, not statistical.
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Obeying an inalienable law, things grew, growing riotous and strange in their impulse for growth.
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I'm lucky that SFWA has such a short memory. I was always the Young Turk, the gadfly. Part of the New Wave, although I didn't fit in there either! I spent years, and two histories, putting the so-called Old Guard in their place, and now I'm one of them!
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The shuffle only demonstrated people’s fatuous belief in a political cure for a human condition.
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'There's a way outside. We're - we've got to find out what we are.' His voice rose to an hysterical pitch. He was shaking Calvin again. 'We must find out what's wrong here. Either we are victims of some ghastly experiment - or we're all monsters!'
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Most of my poetry lies beyond the SF field, yet here I am corralled into 'SF poetry' as part of this poetry weekend. Of course, some might say, 'you've made your own bed - now you must lie in it!' But, while fully accepting that dictum, I'm not yet quite prepared to lie down...
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It was extraordinary to be in two places at once, doing two different things - extraordinary, but not confusing. He merely had two bodies which were as integrated as his two hands had been.
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It’s a national failing to think of politics as something that goes on in Parliament. It isn’t; it’s something that goes on inside us.
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Why don’t you go somewhere quietly and consult your history books if you have no consciences to consult?