--- /dev/null
+[[!meta title="The Cyberiad"]]
+
+## Trechos
+
+---
+
+ Come, every frustum longs to be a cone,
+ And every vector dreams of matrices.
+ Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze:
+ It whispers of a more ergodic zone.
+ -- Stanislaw Lem, "Cyberiad"
+
+---
+
+ Come, let us hasten to a higher plane,
+ Where dyads tread the fairy fields of Venn,
+ Their indices bedecked from one to n,
+ Commingled in an endless Markov chain!
+
+ Come, every frustum longs to be a cone,
+ And every vector dreams of matrices.
+ Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze:
+ It whispers of a more ergodic zone.
+
+ In Riemann, Hilbert or in Banach space
+ Let superscripts and subscripts go their ways.
+ Our asymptotes no longer out of phase,
+ We shall encounter, counting, face to face.
+ -- The Cyberiad
--- /dev/null
+[[!meta title="A Perfect Spy"]]
+
+## Trechos
+
+---
+
+ A society that admires its shock troops had batter be bloody careful about where it's going.
+ -- A Perfect Spy
+
+---
+
+ Intelligence is nothing if not an institutionalised black market in perishable commodities.
+ -- A Perfect Spy
+
+---
+
+ Military intelligence has about as much to do with intelligence as military music has to do
+ with music.
+ -- A Perfect Spy
+
+---
+
+ When two people have decided to go to bed with each other, what passes between them before
+ the event is a matter of form rather than of content.
+ -- A Perfect Spy
+
+---
+
+ Hell, Jack, we're licensed crooks, that's all I'm saying. What's our racket? Know what our racket is?
+ It is to place our larcenous natures at the service of the state. So I mean why should I feel different
+ about Magnus just because maybe he go the mix a little wrong? I can't.
+ -- A Perfect Spy