“ The dark dangerous forest is still there, my friends. Beyond the space of the astronauts and the astronomers, beyond the dark, tangled regions of Freudian and Jungian psychiatry, beyond the dubious ps… Fritz Leiber
“ Fafhrd stopped, again wiped right hand on robe, and held it out. "Name's Fafhrd. Ef ay ef aitch ar dee."Again the Mouser shook it. "Gray Mouser," he said a touch defiantly, as if challenging anyone to… Fritz Leiber
“ THE ROBOT MEN OF BUBBLE CITY, by Rog Phillips Originally published in Fantastic Adventures, July 1949. Turlogh Hogan pressed the stud that raised the parabolic projector but of its recess in the hull… Fritz Leiber
“ Also, in the dismal Cold Waste, any man treasures illusions, though knowing them almost certainly to be such. Fritz Leiber
“ At that instant the hag's noisy breathing stopped and with it all other sound. Her eyes opened, showing only whites - milky ovals infinitely eerie in the dark root-tangle of her sharp features and str… Fritz Leiber
“ Franz said 'Your picture, Viki, suggests that sense of breaking-up we feel in the modern world. Families, nations, classes, other loyalty groups falling apart. Things changing before you get to know t… Fritz Leiber
“ It had all begun on the elevated. There was a particular little sea of roots he had grown into the habit of glancing at just as the packed car carrying him homeward lurched around a turn. A dingy, mel… Fritz Leiber
“ It's a rotten world, Miss Millick,' said Mr. Wran, talking at the window. 'Fit for another morbid growth of superstition. It's time the ghosts, or whatever you call them, took over and began a rule of… Fritz Leiber
“ Miss Millick wondered just what had happened to Mr. Wran. He kept making the strangest remarks when she took dictation. Just this morning he had quickly turned around and asked, "Have you ever seen a… Fritz Leiber
“ The result is ... that there's no room left in the world for the weird – though plenty for crude, contemptuous, wisecracking, fun-poking imitations of it. Fritz Leiber
“ What matters is that life is good. It has a lovely texture, like some rich cloth or fur, or the petals of flowers, and everything else worthwhile. And that's as true for the last man as the first. Fritz Leiber
