Best 128 of Steampunk quotes - MyQuotes
He believes one should read a lot wider than deportment manuals if one plans to get an exceptional education. Don't you agree"" The Kraken weighed the magazine in her hand. "No," she said. "I don't. Besides, this sort of bunkum is not approved of by the academy. It has no educational value." "It teaches piracy and air combat.
You’d be surprised what an eleven-year-old can get away with.” —Tuppence
Some days, the sheer amount of enemies we attracted made me question if maybe our crew was a little too trigger happy. That maybe we’d pissed in too many pots without thinking of the consequences. But then I remembered most folks couldn’t hold to a basic code of honor if it killed them. And kill them we did. Repeatedly.
I must warn you, my story isn’t a pretty one: abductions, time-traveling dragons, the Order of the Black Fez, highly verbal cats, a secret invisible city, condescending robots (condescending means they talk to you like you’re an Idiot; wait, is it condescending of me to explain what condescending means?), and that’s just for starters. —Willa Snap
Normally, she would never wish a head injury on anyone, but it might make her days in Archival Studies a bit easier.
Ticchettio d'ingranaggi. Rumore di pistoni. Sbuffi di vapore. Boyle. Rufus Leddy Boyle, lo scienziato pazzo. Henry sentì crescere dentro di sé la paura, come albume d'uovo montato a neve. In che mani era finito? Tentò ancora di muoversi, ma invano. L'ombra dell'uomo che aveva appena parlato gli coprì il viso. «So che potete sentirmi, lord Demison. Sono il colonnello Comask». Pausa. Anche l'uomo chiamato “dottor Boyle” entrò nel campo visivo di Henry. Poi il colonnello proseguì: «Avete servito egregiamente la corona, ma date le circostanze, credo che sia opportuno congedarvi. Non c'è urgenza di recuperare i documenti. E, almeno per il momento, la vostra missione è compiuta». Fece un saluto militare. «Ci rivedremo a Londra». Salutò il dottore e se ne andò. Henry era ancora impossibilitato a muoversi. Vide il dottor Boyle farsi più vicino e togliersi gli occhialini di protezione. Gli lesse negli occhi una strana mescolanza di orgoglio e compassione. «Bentornato tra i civili, lord Demison», disse l'uomo con insolita dolcezza. «E benvenuto nella vostra nuova vita».
Rejoice in the colours…
Pearl spent the passing days buried so deep in the musty, dusty sorcery tomes that sometimes when she emerged, she spoke in archaic english. "Hast thou a light?" she'd asked him this afternoon when her study room had grown dark with gathering clouds.
Simon’s baby,” he said, rocking on his heels. “Simon’s baby girl. But you are too many, much too many to be Simon’s baby girl. How many are you?” “Seventeen,” I whispered. He was still uncomfortably close. “Lane!” he shouted. I jumped. “Do I have a niece of seventeen?” “Yes,” came Lane’s voice from the door. The old man relaxed. “Then that is as it should be. Lane always knows when things are as they should be. Where is your father, little niece?
Some people loathe the act of killing a person at first, but as they continue to do it, it can feel like a game. They can begin to feel superior, like the winner of the game. But, if the reaper has to save a life for every life they take, it keeps them humble. It’s a matter of subservience so the reaper doesn’t begin to think of himself stronger than he is.
Distruggere qualcosa è il modo migliore d'imparare.
Death is as light as a feather, duty heavier than a spire.
Families that remain perfectly intact are so rare, I've found. Loss touches us all in one way or another.
Perhaps if he stumbled onto a bath and a tailor he could even be considered handsome.
As if the president gives a crap about demons and what they go through just because her father’s got horns?” Morganith returned. “She never opens her coward mouth about the quiet oppression the demons -- your people -- face every single day --!” “Our people,” Hari calmly corrected. “No,” said Morganith at once. “Halflings have never been anyone’s people.
They were all machines, he thought, just like La Mettrie had said in L'Homme Machine all those years ago. So he, Orphan, was a machine of flesh and blood, and Lucy, now, was made of something else, more complex perhaps- but they were the same and... They were in love. Sometimes that was enough.
This time he had no choice but to look into her eyes. He did not look away. It was the bright fierce gaze that she remembered so vividly from their first meeting. He’d reminded her of an eagle, the Castellan of Amyth
You have a way of turning the established order on its head.” Instantly regretting that, he forced his face to relax; Lynx must not see anger in his eyes.
Many great things have been accomplished by the careful combination of keen minds and ardent spirits.
She holstered her weapon, raising the hem of her skirts and stepping lightly around the dead bodies.
When Predator sailed into war, she sang. The rapid winds and rising shrieks suddenly blended into a single harmonious tone. Lines in the rigging and the yards and the masts themselves quivered in time, and began giving off their own notes of music, in harmony with one another. As the speed increased, the chord rose and rose, and built and built, until it reached a crescendo of pure, eerie, inhuman fury. Grimm felt the music rise around him, felt the ship straining eagerly to her task, and his own heart raced in fierce exultation in time with her. Every line of the ship, every smudge upon her decks, every stain upon the leathers of his aeronauts leapt into his mind in vibrant detail. He could feel the ship's motion, forward and down, could feel the wind of her passage, could feel the rising terror of his crew. One of the men screamed--one of them always did--and then the entire crew joined in with Predator, shrieking their battle cries together with their ship's. The ship would not fail them--Grimm knew it; he felt it, the way he could feel sunlight on his face or the rake of wind in his hair.
Follow those rats! They may lead us back to Muggins!
Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind?” Theo called as she reached the door. “This all would be a lot easier if you’d just hand me the parts, and I could get down to business. You know we’re not heading out for a picnic at the gardens. Don’t want to get those lilywhite hands dirty.
Here with her, he wasn’t the son of Kylock Sr., he wasn’t an arrogant prat and he most definitely wasn’t a gentleman.
I tell you all the time, you will never be able to replace me with a brass and steam contraption.
My station has barely recovered from the massacre, and we have not held my formal coronation, not to mention the fact I am only eighteen years of age and have no parent present. How on earth do people expect me to find a husband in all of this nonsense?
The way he spoke to me, the admiration in his gaze, reminded me so, so much of myself staring at Morris, eyes reaching for the stars.
Be happy. Be free. You have a universe inside you.
Darling, you know how I like the sight of a stiff one.
Freedom is a state of mind.
Soffia le ultime parole, sorreggendosi a me. È creta tra le mie dita che tremano. Sì, tremano perché vorrebbero farla sentire al sicuro, invece sono io ad angosciarla. Non le rispondo – Cosa potrei risponderle? – ma la forgio al mio petto, tra le pareti di questo corridoio buio più della mia anima, più del nostro futuro, più delle certezze: Rose è la sola luce nella mia esistenza programmata, il solo astro capace di rischiarire le tenebre del cuore.
And what do you know of monsters?!" "There are none, save the evil monsters that masquerade as men or women.
We do not need you. Do not come unless I call you.” Ricard crawled out of bed and shut the door as the steam men moved down the hall. “Dumb things.” Ricard - As Timeless As Stone
Soon our culture's oldest dreams will be made real. Even the thought of sending a kind of flying craft to the moon is no longer nothing more than a child's fantasy. At this moment in the cities below us, the first mechanical men are being constructed that will have the capability to pilot the ship on its maiden voyage. But no one has asked if this dream we've had for so long will lose its value once it's realized. What will happen when those mechanical men step out of their ship and onto the surface of this moon, which has served humanity for thousands of years as our principal icon of love and madness? When they touch their hands to the ground and perform their relentless analyses and find no measurable miracles, but a dead gray world of rocks and dust? When they discover that it was the strength of millions of boyhood daydreams that kept the moon aloft, and that without them that murdered world will fall, spiraling slowly down and crashing into the open sea?
I had rescued myself entirely.
A steampunk nation Baby pollution rises up then the loving comes arraigning 'cause Our art's official and only partially artificial And our heart's in the middle of sharp hardened shards of metal but There's not where it settles Because it's beating to the steaming of God's hottest pot or kettle And now we face it, this creation we made to To save our craving for a synthetic rebelnation it's Our safeway they make into a pathetic revelation In our steampunk nation Our steampunk nation
That is the difference between great men and small, we great are willing to do the hard things, the uncomfortable things to ensure we succeed.
Dust is not a constant. There’s not a fixed quantity that has always been the same. Conscious beings make Dust—they renew it all the time, by thinking and feeling and reflecting, by gaining wisdom and passing it on. And if you help everyone else in your worlds to do that, by helping them to learn and understand about themselves and each other and the way everything works, and by showing them how to be kind instead of cruel, and patient instead of hasty, and cheerful instead of surly, and above all how to keep their minds open and free and curious…Then they will renew enough to replace what is lost through one window. So there could be one left open.
I lifted a brow. “You’re not going to try to blow up our ship, are you?
Do not stare directly into his eyes!” she warned, in an accent I couldn’t place. “Why not?” I said, but she was already too late. I was staring directly into his eyes too. “Because they are dreamy, and endless, and magical. And then when you learn what a terrible boy he is, your heart will turn into a black husk of doom.” I blinked off the spell of the boy’s eyes. “Wait, what?” —Nimet Simit and Willa Snap, conversing on the power of Ravenlock Sward's eyes.
You’ll have to do better than that chaps, if you want to kill me!
The odd was the ordinary at Alistair Grim's. The people who lived there were odd. The things they did there were odd. Even the there itself there was odd.
If you’re going to write punk fiction, you have to be brave enough to look through the lens of a different era’s telescope.
The landscape here was strange. It was some type of forest, with giant vines that grew into spirals, round and round, growing up fifty metres toward the sky. They were massive. Some were fifteen metres across, narrowing as they rose.
When you read my stories, I want you to see the world through my eyes; as if I based my work on you. Come away with me, and I'll show you a world that you've never seen before or ever want to leave.
As they walked, it seemed almost every building had some similar contrivance as decoration, adorning the street in a cacophony of clangs, bangs and whirs. The street’s surroundings danced with steam and smoke, the scent of oil and grease its perfume.
Steampunk is Victorian science fiction
Mortals trotted about in shoes and corsets made to limit movement, fashion for prey.
All right boys, let’s sail away! Show those bastards how airship pirates fly a ship!
So this is how the merchant ship won’t follow us,” I mumbled, “They aren’t insane enough to join the party.