If civilization has risen from the Stone Age, it can rise again from the Wastepaper Age.
The quality of a man's mind can generally be judged by the size of his wastepaper basket.
Characters develop as the book progresses, but any that start to bore me end up in the wastepaper basket. In real life, we may have to put up with tedious people, but not in novels.
All that we know is nothing, we are merely crammed wastepaper baskets, unless we are in touch with that which laughs at all our knowing.
At the end of a miserable day, instead of grieving my virtual nothing, I can always look at my loaded wastepaper basket and tell myself that if I failed, at least I took a few trees down with me.
Inspector Frank Butterman: I suppose you're wondering why we call them the "Andies"? Nicholas Angel: They're both called Andrew? Inspector Frank Butterman: [delighted] They said you were good! Danny Butterman: Also because talking to them is an uphil...
