We live in strange times.

We also live in strange places: each in a universe of our own. The people with whom we populate our universes are the shadows of whole other universes intersecting with our own. Being able to glance out into this bewildering complexity of infinite recursion and say things like, "Oh, hi, Ed! Nice tan. How’s Carol?" involves a great deal of filtering skill for which all conscious entities have eventually to develop a capacity in order to protect themselves from the contemplation of the chaos through which they seethe and tumble. So give your kid a break, okay?

(...extract from "Practical Parenting in a Fractally Demented Universe")

Old woman Oracle: "Can you help me pull out the photocopier?"
Arthur: "What?"
OWO: "The photocopier. It's solar-powered, but I have to keep it in the cave so the birds don't shit on it."

"This Arthur Dent," comes the cry from the farthest reaches of the galaxy, and has even now been found inscribed on a deep space probe thought to originate from an alien galaxy at a distance too hideous to contemplate, "what is he, man or mouse? Is he interested in nothing more than tea and the wider issues of life? Has he no spirit? Has he no passion? Does he not, to put it in a nutshell, fuck?"
Those who wish to know should read on. Others may wish to skip on to the last chapter which is a good bit and has Marvin in it.

He (Zaphod) then had another quick one (drink) to follow the first one down and check that it was all right. [...] sent a third drink down to see why the second one hadn't yet reported on the condition of the first. [...] He poured a drink down his other throat with the plan it would head the other one off at the pass, join forces with it, and together they would get the second to pull itself together, give it a good talking to and maybe a bit of a sing as well. He felt uncertain as to whether the fourth drink had understood all that, so he sent down a fifth drink to explain the plan more fully and a sixth for moral support. Zaphod drinking, after meeting the Man Who Rules the Universe.

"And the wheel," said the Captain, "what about this wheel thingy? It sounds a terribly interesting project."
"Ah," said the marketing girl, "well, we're having a little difficulty there."
"Difficulty?" exclaimed Ford. "Difficulty? What do you mean, difficulty? It's the single simplest machine in the entire Universe!"
The marketing girl soured him with a look. "All right Mr. Wiseguy," she said, "you're so clever, you tell us what color it should be."

"I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in parts of my body?"

Getting a movie made in Hollywood is like trying to grill a steak by having a succession of people coming into the room and breathing on it.

In fact, I wanted to be John Cleese and it took some time to realize the job was in fact taken.

The Macintosh may only have 10% of the market, but it is clearly the top 10%.

The hotel shop only had two decent books, and I'd written both of them.