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"SPENDER TURNED AND WENT TO SIT AT THE FIRE, LOOKING INTO IT. CHICKEN POX, GOD, CHICKEN POX, THINK OF IT! A RACE BUILDS ITSELF FOR A MILLION YEARS, REFINES ITSELF, ERECTS CITIES LIKE THOSE OUT THERE, DOES EVERYTHING IT CAN TO GIVE ITSELF RESPECT AND BEAUTY, AND THEN IT DIES. PART OF IT DIES SLOWLY, IN ITS OWN TIME, BEFORE OUR AGE, WITH DIGNITY. BUT THE REST! DOES THE REST OF MARS DIE OF A DISEASE WITH A FINE NAME OR A TERRIFYING NAME OR A MAJESTIC NAME? NO, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT’S HOLY, IT HAS TO BE CHICKEN POX, A CHILD’S DISEASE, A DISEASE THAT DOESN’T EVEN KILL CHILDREN ON EARTH! IT’S NOT RIGHT AND IT’S NOT FAIR. IT’S LIKE SAYING THE GREEKS DIED OF MUMPS, OR THE PROUD ROMANS DIED ON THEIR BEAUTIFUL HILLS OF ATHLETE’S FOOT! IF ONLY WE’D GIVEN THE MARTIANS TIME TO ARRANGE THEIR DEATH ROBES, LIE DOWN, LOOK FIT, AND THINK UP SOME OTHER EXCUSE FOR DYING. IT CAN’T BE A DIRTY, SILLY THING LIKE CHICKEN POX. IT DOESN’T FIT THE ARCHITECTURE; IT DOESN’T FIT THIS ENTIRE WORLD!"
- Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles
- Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles