Since when did a mathematician need any tools but his own head? Pythagoras had done well enough with a stick and a stretch of sand.
Don’t have kittens, Genesis is going to work. You’ll be remembered in one breath with Newton, Einstein, Surak…
Do you know where there are any personages of historical significance around here?
We travel through time to help history along; give it a push where it’s needed.
Pusher was dead. Bipedal, he didn’t have the stability of the rest of the Crew. The storm had caught him in the middle of a floor, thrown him against a stiffened Wall, and broken several of his important bones. He was beyond Doctor’s skill to repair.
But the tale that chills my spirit, more because I know it’s true,
Is the tale of Jayme Dawson and his crew,
Yes, the tale of Dawson’s Christian and her crew.
“Botany Bay” …Botany Bay? Oh no! We’ve got to get out of here now!
That’s the book that made me decide to become a botanist.
In answer to the sound, the underbrush crackled, and through it and upon the scene there crashed a vegetable-animal nightmare-- the parent of the relatively tiny thing whose perfume had disabled the girl.
Something large was crashing through the woods nearby, heading toward the bear cub. Flort ran as fast as he could. His tongue rattled all the way back to the spaceship. (He had no teeth to chatter.)
I’ve seen it… nobody believes me…
The golden ship was- Oh! Oh! Oh!
" If I asked you where the hell we were, would I regret it?"
“We’re safe.”
“Oh good.”
“We’re in a small galley cabin in one of the spaceships of the Vogon Constructor Fleet.”
"Ah, this is obviously some strange use of the word safe that I wasn’t previously aware of.”
Supposing you’re right about all of this. What about that ship up there. What’s it doing?
To answer your question, NASA isn’t telling us much at all. Whether that’s because the Soviet authorities aren’t sharing information or for some other reason, we’re not sure.
“How could you convince your people to allow Americans to go on the flight?”
“It won’t be easy. However, I’m pretty good. A Russian craft flown by Russians…carrying a few poor Americans who need our help. That also doesn’t look too bad on the front page of Pravda.”
You are looking at a species of flimsy little two-legged animal with extremely small heads whose name is Man. Warren Marcusson, age thirty-five. Samuel A. Conrad, age thirty-one. They’re taking a highway into space, Man unshackling himself and sending his tiny, grouping fingers up into the unknown. Their destination is Mars, and in just a moment we’ll land there with them.
“Conrad” by now you are aware of the true nature of my visit. I feel I have made a good choice in naming you as heir to the property commonly referred to as Earth. Your affection for it cannot be gainsaid; as Karaghiosis you inspired men to bleed in its defense; you are restoring its monuments, preserving its works of art (and as one stipulation of my will, by the way, I insist that you put back the Great Pyramid!), and your ingenuity as well as your toughness, both physical and mental, is singularly amazing.
Order? I care nothing for order. It is the others who insist on such foolishness and frippery. However, if you are the one who determines such things, may I ask that you place me behind the Warlord Whenery? I enjoy watching her backside travel.
Young man, don’t presume to stand there and lecture me about great minds and great inventors. In all my years I’ve never worked with anyone who is a fool and I don’t intend to start now.