Bad books on writing tell you to "WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW", a solemn and totally
false adage that is the reason there exist so many mediocre novels about English professors contemplating adultery.
Reality becomes illusory and observer-oriented when you study general relativity. Or Buddhism. Or get drafted.
Tonight we're going to show you eight silent ways to kill a man
There's no such thing as writing about the future. The future hasn't happened yet.
Doctors don’t seem to realize that most of us are perfectly content not having to visualize ourselves as animated bags of skin filled with obscene glop.
Science fiction as a genre has the benefit of being able to act as parable, to set up a story at a remove so you can make a real-world point without people throwing up a wall in front of it.
Heaven was a lovely, unspoiled Earth-like world; what Earth might have been like if men had treated her with compassion instead of lust.
So here we were, fifty men and fifty women, with IQs over 150 and bodies of unusual health and strength, slogging elitely through the mud and slush of central Missouri, reflecting on the usefulness of our skill in building bridges on worlds where the only fluid is an occasional standing pool of liquid helium.