That was it. That was really it. She knew that she had told herself that that was it only seconds earlier, but this was now the final real ulimate it.
When the girl sitting at the next table looked away from a moment, Dirk leaned over and took her coffee. He knew that he was perfectly safe doing this because she would simply not be able to believe that this had happened.
If there’s any real truth, it’s that the entire multidimensional infinity of the Universe is almost certainly being run by a bunch of maniacs.
How do you know you’re having fun if there’s no one watching you have it?
There are some oddities in the perspective with which we see the world.
The only moral it is possible to draw from this story is that one should never throw the Q letter into a privet bush, but unfortunately there are times when it is unavoidable.
Rather than arriving five hours late and flustered, it would be better all around if he were to arrive five hours and a few extra minutes late, but triumphantly in command.
He was constantly reminded of how startlingly different a place the world was when viewed from a point only three feet to the left.
Will you stop counting!? snarled Zaphod. ‘Yes,’ said Ford Prefect, ’in three minutes and thirty-five seconds.
I am a private detective. I am paid to be inquisitive and presumptuous.
It was his subconscious which told him this – that infuriating part of a person’s brain which never responds to interrogation, merely gives little meaningful nudges and then sits humming quietly to itself, saying nothing.
Yes, it is true that sometimes unusually intelligent and sensitive children can appear to be stupid. But stupid children can sometimes appear to be stupid as well. I think that’s something you might have to consider.
It’s part of the shape of the Universe. I only have to talk to somebody and they begin to hate me.
Zaphod did not want to tangle with them and, deciding that just as discretion is the better part of valor, so was cowardice is the better part of discretion, he valiantly hid himself in a closet.
He had got himself a life. Now he had to find a purpose in it.
Marvin was humming ironically because he hated humans so much.
The seat received him in a loose and distant kind of way, like an aunt who disapproves of the last fifteen years of your life and will therefore furnish you with a basic sherry, but refuses to catch your eye.
He didn’t know why he had become president of the galaxy, except that it seemed a fun thing to be.
The only person for whom the house was in any way special was Arthur Dent, and that was only because it happened to be the one he lived in.
Believe me, it is a great deal better to find cast-iron proof that you’re innocent than to languish in a cell hoping that the police – who already think you’re guilty – will find it for you.