Best 46 quotes of Brian Aldiss on MyQuotes

All over the world there must be far-reaching changes in animal behavior and habitat; if only one could have another life in which to chart it all... Ah, well, that's not a fruitful thing to wish, is it?

A writer should say to himself, not, How can I get more money?, but How can I reach more readers (without lowering standards)?

Civilization is the distance man has placed between himself and his excreta.

Fantasy is literature for teenagers.

Feedback is a pleasant thing. I get a lot of letters from unexpected people in unexpected places.

However you envisage your role in life, all you can do is perform it as best you can.

I can't help believing that these things that come from the subconscious mind have a sort of truth to them. It may not be a scientific truth, but it's psychological truth.

If more people had put their fellow human beings before abstractions last century, we shouldn't be where we are now.

I have had wealth, rank and power, but, if these were all I had, how wretched I should be.

It is at night... that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull.

It is comparatively easy to become a writer; staying a writer, resisting formulaic work, generating ones own creativity - thats a much tougher matter.

It's a national failing to think of politics as something that goes on in Parliament. It isn't; it's something that goes on inside us.

Its at night, when perhaps we should be dreaming, that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull. I dont know if anyone has ever pointed out that great attraction of insomnia before, but it is so; the night seems to release a little more of our vast backward inheritance of instincts and feelings; as with the dawn, a little honey is allowed to ooze between the lips of the sandwich, a little of the stuff of dreams to drip into the waking mind.

I've no objection to morality, except that it's obsolete.

I was hardly fit for human society. Thus destiny shaped me to be a science fiction writer.

Keep violence in the mind Where it belongs (Barefoot in the Head)

Let's have a toast - to the future generation of consumers, however many heads or assholes they have!

Most of my poetry lies beyond the SF field, yet here I am corralled into 'SF poetry' as part of this poetry weekend. Of course, some might say, 'you've made your own bed - now you must lie in it!' But, while fully accepting that dictum, I'm not yet quite prepared to lie down.

Most SF is about madness, or what is currently ruled to be madness; this is part of its attraction - it's always playing with how much the human mind can encompass.

My briefest ever definition of science fiction is 'Hubris clobbered by Nemesis.'

Obeying an inalienable law, things grew, growing riotous and strange in their impulse for growth.

Relax, enjoy yourself. Have another drink. It's patriotic to overconsume.

Science fiction is for real, space opera is for fun.

Science fiction is no more written for scientists than ghost stories are written for ghosts.

Science fiction is the search for a definition of mankind and his status in the universe which will stand in our advanced but confused state of knowledge (science), and is characteristically cast in the Gothic or post Gothic mode.

That is why we dread children, even if we love them. They show us the state of our decay.

That's the artist's role - to strike out always for something new, to break away, to defy, to... grapple with the unfamiliar.

The fatal error of much science fiction has been to subscribe to an optimism based on the idea that revolution, or a new gimmick, or a bunch of strong men, or an invasion of aliens, or the conquest of other planets, or the annihilation of half the world--in short, pretty nearly anything but the facing up to the integral and irredeemable nature of mankind--can bring about utopian situations. It is the old error of the externalization of evil.

The feat represents immense achievement for the neotenic ape, species Homo sapiens. But behind this lie twooldattributesoftheapetribalismandinquisitiveness.

The prose poem Walk The Red Road is great stuff and deserves to be read aloud. It compares quite favorably to The Walls Of Emerald by Li Chiang Yen, a Chinese poet of the late Tang period.

There are two kinds of writer: those that make you think, and those that make you wonder.

The shuffle only demonstrated people's fatuous belief in a political cure for a human condition.

To be a standard shape is not all in life. To know is also important.

We belong to an age where apocalypse is our daily bread, coffee's black, and we know we're part of the abyss. Red Spider White Web is right on target in conveying that understanding. It splinters in the mind... the underworld of the century's imaginings.

Whatever creativity is, it is in part a solution to a problem.

What were several fewer species of animals compared with a hundred-mile advance and another medal on another general?

When childhood dies, its corpses are called adults and they enter society, one of the politer names of hell. That is why we dread children, even if we love them, they show us the state of our decay.

When childhood dies, its corpses are called adults.

When knowledge becomes formulated into a science, then it does take on a life of it's own, often alien to the human spirit that conceived it.

When you are young, you enjoy a sustained illusion that sooner or later something marvelous is going to happen, that you are going to transcend your parents' limitations.

Why had I become a writer in the first place? Because I wasn't fit for society; I didn't fit into the system.

Writers must fortify themselves with pride and egotism as best they can. The process is analogous to using sandbags and loose timbers to protect a house against flood. Writers are vulnerable creatures like anyone else. For what do they have in reality? Not sandbags, not timbers. Just a flimsy reputation and a name.

Civilisation is the distance that man has placed between himself and his own excreta.

-Expansion to your ego, friend. -At your expense.

Only a technological age could condemn unborn generations to exist in it, as if man were mere protoplasm, without emotion or aspiration.

We can no longer believe that after death, if we have sinned, we shall enter hell. Hell has been acted out here on Earth in the time of Nazi Germany, when even the innocent went in their millions to a hell that beggars the imagination. A profound change in attitude has come about as a result.