Now do you see my point?"
"I'm beginning to see through a glass darkly. You mean that the mental make-up of a leading politician is likely to be such that he couldn't dream it possible that anyone could find the prospect of becoming a dictator wholly unpalatable."
"Yes, I can see it all, Chris," Leicester grinned. "Graft everywhere, executions just for the laughs, no wife or daughter safe.

It isn’t the Universe that’s following our logic, it’s we that are constructed in accordance with the logic of the Universe. And that gives what I might call a definition of intelligent life: something that reflects the basic structure of the Universe.

Viewed from a wholly logical point of view the bearing and rearing of children is a thoroughly unattractive proposition. To a woman it means pain and endless worry. To a man it means extra work extending over many years to support his family. So, if we were wholly logical about sex, we should probably not bother to reproduce at all. Nature takes care of this by making us utterly and wholly irrational.

You haven't very much respect for my profession, have you, Professor Kingsley?"
"Since it is you who wish for frankness, I will tell you that I have not. I regard politicians rather as I regard the instruments on the dashboard of my car. They tell me what is going on in the engine of state, but they don't control it.

“But I can’t go along and gatecrash.”
“Nonsense, of course you can come—a guest from England! You’ll be the lion of the party. Probably half a dozen film moguls from Hollywood will want to sign you up on the spot.”
“All the more reason for not going,” said Kingsley.