Sublime

All serious diseases had been conquered. So death was voluntary, and the government, to encourage volunteers for death, set up a purple-roofed Ethical Suicide Parlor at every major intersection, right next door to an orange-roofed Howard John-son's. There were pretty hostesses in the parlor, and Barca-Loungers, and Muzak, and a choice of fourteen p

I asked him at the clambake in 2001, at the writers’ retreat Xanadu, what he’d done during the war, which he called “civilization’s second unsuccessful attempt to commit suicide.”

And then he thought about Africa, and the Nazi experiment there. And his blood stopped in his veins, hesitated, at last went

Vonnegut’s seventh rule: “Pity the readers”:

So