H.G. Well’s The Time Machine citations.

Our mental existences, which are immaterial and have no dimensions, are passing along the Time-Dimension with a uniform velocity from the cradle to the grave  p.6

You can show black is white by argument, said Filby, but you will never convince me p.6

Our ancestors had no great tolerance for anachronisms p.6

…wait until to-morrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning. p.10

It is a mistake to do things too easily. p.11

As I put on pace, night followed day like the flapping of a black wing. p.17

The slowest snail that ever crawled dashed by too fast for me. p.17

As I did so the shafts of the sun smote through the thunderstorm. The grey downpour was swept aside and vanished like the trailing garments of a ghost. Above me, in the intense blue of the summer sky, some faint brown shreds of cloud whirled into nothingness. The great buildings about me stood out clear and distinct, shining with the wet of the thunderstorm, and picked out in white by the unmelted hailstones piled along their courses. I felt naked in a strange world. I felt as perhaps a bird may feel in the clear air, knowing the hawk wings above and will swoop.  p.20

You who have never seen the like can scarcely imagine what delicate and wonderful flowers countless years of culture had created. p.22

Fruit, by the bye, were all their diet. (frugivorous) p.24

(anthropology): I felt that this close resemblance of the sexes was after all what one would expect; for the strength of a man and the softness of a woman, the institution of the family, and the differentiation of occupations are mere militant necessities of na age of physical force. Where population is balanced and abundant, much childbearing becomes an evil rather than a blessing to the State; where violence comes but rarely and offspring are secure, there is less necessity- indeed there is no necessity – for an efficient family, and the specialization of the sexes with reference to their children’s needs disappears. We see some beginnings of this even in our own time, and in this future age it was complete. This, I must remind you, was my speculation at the time.   p.26

There were no hedges, no signs of proprietary rights, no evidences of agriculture; the whole earth had become a garden.  p.27

…a glimpse of one facet of the truth  p.27

We improve our favourite plants and animals- and how few they are- gradually by selective breeding; now a new and better peach, now a seedless grape, now a sweeter and large flower, now a more convenient breed of cattle. We improve them gradually, because are ideals are vague and tentative, and our knowledge is very limited; because Nature, too, is shy and slow in our clumsy hands.  Some day all this will be better organized, and still better. That is the drift of the current in spite of the eddies.    p.28

…the strong would be fretted by an energy for which there was no outlet … This has ever been the fate of energy in security; it takes to art and eroticism, and then come languor and decay.  p.29

Very simple was my theory, and plausible enough – as most wrong theories are!  p.30

And, after all, it was a beautiful a curious world.  p.33

It was a foolish impulse, but the devil begotten of fear and blind anger was ill curbed and still eager to take advantage of my perplexity.   p.34

I had been restless, dreaming most disagreeably that I was drowned, and that sea-anemones were feeling over my face with soft palps.  p.40

The moon was setting, and the dying moonlight and the first pallor of dawn were mingled in a ghastly half-light.  p.40

…the planets must ultimately fall back one by one into the parent body. p.41

(in the future)  …at times I missed tobacco frightfully!

…this ripe prime of the human race, when Fear does not paralyze and mystery has lost its terrors.   p.52

…silhouetted black against the pale yellow of the sky.   p. 53

My pockets had always puzzled Weena, but at the last she had concluded that they were an eccentric kind of vase for floral decoration.  p.53

You know that great pause that comes upon things before the dusk? Even the breeze stops in the trees. To me there is always an air of expectation about that evening stillness.     p. 53

(of Fire)  The red tongues that went licking up my heap of wood   p.64

… it is more like the sorrow of a dream than an actual loss.  p.68

I grieved to think how brief the dream of the human intellect had been.  It had committed suicide.  It had set itself steadfastly towards comfort and ease, a balanced society with security and permanency as its watchword, it had attained its hopes – to come to this at last.  Once, life and property must have reached almost absolute safety.  The rich had been assured of his wealth and comfort, the toiler assured of his life and work. No doubt in that perfect world there had been no unemployment problem, no social question left unsolved. And a great quiet had followed.        It is a law of nature we overlook, that intellectual versatility is the compensation for change, danger and trouble.  An animal perfectly in harmony with its environment is a perfect mechanism. Nature never appeals to intelligence until habit and instinct are useless. There is no intelligence where there is no change and no need of change. Only those animals partake of intelligence that have to meet a huge variety of needs and dangers.  p.69

Beyond these lifeless sounds the world was silent. Silent? It would be hard to convey the stillness of it. All the sounds of man, the bleating of sheep, the cries of birds, the hum of insects, the stir that makes the backgrounds of our lives- all that was over.  As the darkness thickened, the eddying flakes grew more abundant, dancing before my eyes; and the cold of the air more intense.  p. 75

They say life is a dream, a precious poor dream at times- but I can’t stand another that won’t fit. It’s madness. And where did the dream come from?   p.79

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