Contra la estupidez, los propios dioses luchan en vano - Isaac Asimov

Someone once asked me, "If you had your choice, Dr. Asimov, would it be women or writing?" My answer was, "Well, I can write for twelve hours at a time without getting tired."

He was thirty-two. Not old — but he felt old. His body, whatever its mutant mental powers, was physically weak. Every star! Every star he could see — and every star he couldn't see. It must all be his! Revenge on all. On a humanity of which he wasn't a part. On a Galaxy in which he didn't fit.

Seldon found himself raging at the passage of time.