Slaughterhouse-Five

Before you kill somebody, make absolutely sure he isn’t well connected.

So it goes.

So it goes.

“Poo-tee-weet?”

So it goes.

“Can I make a guess?” said Kilgore Trout. “You saw through a time window.” “A what?” said Valencia. “He suddenly saw the past or the future.

The hobo could not flow, could not plop. He wasn’t liquid anymore. He was stone. So it goes.

So it goes.

And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.