David Gerrold

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David Gerrold

Jerrold David Friedman (born 24 January 1944, in Chicago, Illinois), better known by his pen name David Gerrold, is an American science fiction author.


The Man Who Folded Himself (1973)[edit]

There are no chapter numbers in this book. All page numbers are from the 2003 trade paperback edition published by BenBella Books
  • Life is full of little surprises.
    Time travel is full of big ones.
    • (p. 46)
  • You aren’t really jumping through time, that’s the illusion; what you’re actually doing is leaving one timestream and jumping to—maybe even creating—another. The second one is identical to the one you just left, including all of the changes you made in it—up to the instant of your appearance. At that moment, simply by the fact of your existence in it, the second timestream becomes a different timestream. You are the difference.
    • (p. 48)
  • I also know that Christianity has held back any further advances in human consciousness for the past thousand years. And for the past century it’s been in direct conflict with its illegitimate offspring, Communism (again with a capital C). Both ask the individual to sacrifice his self-interest to the higher goals of the organization. (Which is okay by me as long as it’s voluntary; but as soon as either becomes too big—and takes on that damned capital C—they stop asking for cooperation and start demanding it.)
    Any higher states of human enlightenment have been sacrificed between these two monoliths.
    • (p. 73)
  • I think I exist, therefore I exist. I think.
    • (p. 79)
  • I wish I could change it all. I wish I could.
    But I can’t.
    Now I know what it’s like to have an indelible past—one that can’t be erased and changed at will. It’s frustrating. It’s maddening. And it makes me wish I had been more careful and thoughtful.
    • (p. 100)
  • Death comes black and hard, rushing down on me from the future, with no possible chance of escape.
    • (p. 109)
  • You cannot avoid mortality. But you can choose your way of meeting it. And that is the most that any man can hope for.
    Live well, my son.
    • (p. 114)
  • I’ve always felt that anyone who wants to talk about my private life is only demonstrating the paucity of his/her imagination when there are so many more important and exciting things to discuss.
    • (in the Afterword, p. 117)

External links[edit]

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