“George: I read somewhere that science fiction is really not science fiction at all…that you people are rearranging my genes so that everyone will be like everyone else.”
“Nick: UP YOURS! …
George: You take the trouble to construct a civilization…to…to build a society, based on the principles of…of principle … then all at once … through all the sensible sounds of men building … comes the Dies Irae. And what is it? What does the trumpet sound? Up yours.”
“George: “And the west, encumbered by crippling alliances, and hardened with a morality too rigid to accommodate itself to the swing of events, must…eventually…fall.”
“George: there are easier things than being married to the daughter of the president of that university.
Martha: … for some men it would be the chance of a life time.”
“George: the one thing in this whole sinking world that I am sure of is my … chromosomological partnership in the…creation of our…blond-eyed, blue-haired…son.”