WIST

Writers must fortify themselves with pride and egotism as best they can. The process is analogous to using sandbags and loose timbers to protect a house against flood. Writers are vulnerable creatures like anyone else. For what do they have in reality? Not sandbags, not timbers. Just a flimsy reputation and a name.

Brian Aldiss (b. 1925) English author
Bury My Heart at W.H. Smith’s, “Apéritif” (1990)

Civilization is the distance man has placed between himself and his excreta.

Brian Aldiss (b. 1925) English author
The Dark Light Years, ch. 5 (1964)

When childhood dies, its corpses are called adults and they enter society, one of the politer names of hell. That is why we dread children, even if we love them. They show us the state of our decay.

Brian Aldiss (b. 1925) English author
The Trillion Year Spree (1986)

Also cited to the Manchester <i>Guardian</i> (31 Dec 1977)