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The sort of poetry I seek resides in objects man can't touch.

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The Machine is the friend of ideas and the enemy of superstition: the Machine is omnipotent, eternal; blessed is the Machine.

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I did not fear that I might tread upon a live rail and be killed. I feared something far more intangible-doing what was not contemplated by the Machin...more

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Gray clouds were charging across tissues of white, which stretched and shredded and tore slowly, until through their final layers there gleamed a hint...more

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I believed in a return to Nature once. But how can we return to Nature when we have never been with her? Today, I believe that we must discover Nature...more

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I'm afraid that in nine cases out of ten Nature pulls one way and human nature another.

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Why children?' he asked. 'Why always children? For love to end where it begins is far more beautiful, and Nature knows it.

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Few travelled in these days, for, thanks to the advance of science, the earth was exactly alike all over. Rapid intercourse, from which the previous c...more

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You talk as if a god had made the Machine," cried the other. "I believe that you pray to it when you are unhappy. Men made it, do not forget that. Gre...more

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Vashti was seized with the terrors of direct experience. She shrank back into the room, and the wall closed up again.