It was really written as most, I think, books are by writers - for themselves. There was something that just had to be written, in a way that it had to be written. If you know what I mean.

For the world was changing, and sweetness was gone, and virtue too. Worry had crept on a corroding world, and what was lost- good manners, ease and beauty? Ladies were not ladies anymore, and you couldn't trust a gentleman's word.

Wo kahte h ki hum gusse me
Sab kuchh bhul jaate h,
Par wo ye nhi btate ki hum
Pyar me bhi sab kuchh bhul jaate h,,

Another symptom of progress toward the Singularity: ideas themselves should spread ever faster, and even the most radical will quickly become commonplace.

Written By Vernor Vinge

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