Even at the speed of thought—which is infinitely faster than the speed of light—it took time to reach the Andromeda galaxy, and more time to prove what I had thought would be the case all along. Some things there were a novelty but there was nothing which, after a time, did not bore me.

The Andromeda galaxy ceased to be.

I can’t say how long it took me to explore the nearest five hundred galaxies. Time ceased to have meaning for me. I was bored and restless, and nothing which I saw satisfied me. One galaxy after another, I willed them out of existence.

The universe was as disappointing as the earth had been. If only I could start over, from scratch...

There was the awful paradox, I could destroy but I could not create—and I was bored...