I can't say I've read much of his work, and I know next to nothing about him personally, but no one who knows anything about the genre can deny that Arthur C Clarke was truly a Great.
And two days ago, he died.
I didn't even know he was still alive. And in a way, that makes me ashamed. It makes me feel like I ought to get out into the world and /learn/ more. It makes me want to know more about people, others, be more invested in their lives and the world and its affairs...
And I think, for Mr Clarke, that may be tribute enough.