• We have to invent a sort of life where men can live and breed, and be sufficiently secure to bring the children up.
• Under this London are miles and miles—hundreds of miles—and a few days’ rain and London empty will leave them sweet and clean.
• The main drains are big enough and airy enough for anyone.
• There are cellars, vaults, stores, from which bolting passages may be made to the drains as well as the railway tunnels and subways.
• We may even be able to keep a watch, and run about in the open when the Martians keep away.
• We must make great safe places down deep, and get all the books we can; not novels and poetry.
• Just imagine this: four or five of their fighting machines suddenly starting off—Heat-Rays right and left, and not a Martian in ‘em. Not a Martian in ‘em, but men—men who have learned the way how.
• I perceived a strange light, a pale, violet-purple fluorescent glow, quivering under the night breeze. For a space I could not understand it, and then I knew that it must be the red weed from which this faint irradiation proceeded.
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