“How long the party lasted Forrester did not know. He remembered a long harangue in which the drunken ballet dancer was trying to explain to him that the accent was Martian, not German; something to do with six-hundred-millibar oxyhelium air, which got them out of the habit of hearing certain frequencies.”
~Frederik Pohl, The Age of the Pussyfoot
“The Age of the Pussyfoot: Charles Forrester was out of the deepfreeze. It had taken several centuries to bring him back to life. But what a life it was! The 26th Century offered pleasure at the flip of a button – everything from gourmet food to stupendous sex right there for the asking. And for a rich man like Forrester, the possibilities of delight were endless. Of course, everything else was endless too. But by the time Forrester realized that he had had enough of a good thing – even too much! – he realized that he would somehow have to kill himself if he were ever to survive! It was the Age of the Pussyfoot.