The stars, like dust, encircle me In living mists of light; And all of space I seem to see In one vast burst… — Isaac Asimov

“At least try to see my motives. Granted that I was foolish—criminally foolish—can’t you understand? Can’t you try not to hate me?”

She said softly, “I have tried not to love you and, as you see, I have failed.”

The Autarch maintained his indifferent calm, but a certain lack of certainty was gathering, and he did not like to experience a lack of certainty. He liked nothing which made him aware of limitations. An Autarch should have no limitations, and on Lingane he had none that natural law did not impose.

I see your vile implication. My only explanation for it is that you are criminally insane.