Best 516 quotes in «aliens quotes» category

Crushed sandstone sifted through Caleb’s fingers, insubstantial as dust. A breeze caught the debris mid-fall and spirited it away before it could join the ashes blanketing the ground. He stopped in the middle of what had once been a street, his arms pulled in at his sides, his fists balled in barely restrained fury.

Dashiel’s jacket slid off his shoulders to land on the floor as he headed straight to the kitchen, fumbled in the cabinet for a glass and poured sake into it until the liquid spilt over the brim onto the counter. His hand shook as he picked up the glass, spilling more of the sake to trickle between his knuckles as he brought it to his lips. A single droplet sloshed onto his tongue. The sweet nectar of oblivion. The harbinger of a fog rolling in to sweep away the pain in favor of blissful stupor— —he hurled the glass across the room. It shattered on impact with the far sturdier window glass, and a hundred tiny shards joined the sake in decorating the floor.

Dawkins’s advice shows that he didn’t understand probability. . . . Dawkins said that a creature the lives millions of years would have a different feeling for the meaning of the chance of an event than we have. If the alien lives a hundred million years, he could have played very many hands of bridge Then, Dawkins said, it would not be unusual for him to see a ‘perfect’ bridge hand where each player was dealt thirteen cards of the same suit. ‘They will expect to be dealt a perfect bridge hand from time to time, and will scarcely trouble to write home about it when it happens.’ He’s wrong. One can easily calculate the chance of Dawkins’s alien experiencing a perfect bridge hand at least once in his lifetime. The shance of getting such a hand in one deal is 4.47 x [10 to the minus 28th power]. If the alien plays 100 bridge hands every day of his life for 100 million years, he would play about 3.65 x [10 to the 12th power] hands. The chance of his seeing a perfect hand at least once in his life is then 1.63 x [10 to the minus 15th power], or about one chance in a quadrillion. That’s less than Dawkins’’ chance of coming to New York for two weeks and winning the lottery twice in a row. Would he bother to write home about it?

Did I tell you what happened at the play? We were at the back of the theatre, standing there in the dark, when all of a sudden I feel one of 'em tug at my sleeve, whispers, "Trudy look!" I said, "Yeah, goosebumps. You definitely got goosebumps. You like the play that much?" They said it wasn't the play that gave 'em goosebumps, it was the audience! I'd forgot to tell them to watch the play; they'd been watching the audience! Yeah, to see a group of people sitting together in the dark, laughing and crying at the same things...well that just knocked 'em out! They said, "Trudy, the play was soup, the audience, art." So they're taking goosbumps back with 'em into space. Goosebumps! Quite a souvenir. I like to think of them out there in the dark, watching us. Sometimes we'll do something and they'll laugh. Sometimes we'll do something and they'll cry. And maybe, one day we'll do something so magnificent, the whole universe will get goosebumps.

disclosure: (n.) when they finally tell us everything and nothing changes.

Do I really run like that?" (Kitty) "Yup," Martini confirmed. "Don't worry, I think it's sexy." "Thank God. I think I look like a cheetah on drugs.

Despite the gloom she could make out enough of his finely chiseled features to fleetingly rethink the CPR issue. The man was a knock out, with cheek bones sharp enough to cut cheese on, an arrow straight nose, a strong jaw, and a well cut mouth that subjected both cruelty and sensuality. He stirred groaning softly, hands flailing as if he was searching for something. Mary moved out the way as he rolled towards her coming to rest on his back. As she lent over him to get another look dark eyelashes flickered, opened. His eyes were pale and striking, something flashing in them like lightning cutting through turbulent storm clouds. A pair of fey owlish brows slanted down in to a perplexed frown as he stared up at her. Mary let out a startled yelp when she was grabbed, and then rolled beneath a larger body, his heavy weight, her arms pinioned above her in just one of his large hands. Her hat yanked off and her features quickly scanned. Outrage quickly turned in to fear. The glacial scrutiny made her tremble as if an arctic wind had caressed her body, not that the shear brute strength the stranger wielded alone was not frightening enough. “I’m just trying to help you.” Mary breathed, fighting down the rising panic as his gaze bored in to her. “You must have fallen of your bike.” She had worked Crown defense long enough to have encountered more then a few clients who were nothing more then malicious, ill tempered, brutal thugs. This man Mary knew on an intuitive level was far more dangerous, because he was a killer, because he was devoid of all those things. There was a detachment to his inspection of her, considering if she was pray or a pet. Not human. Something deeply buried stirred. An ancestral memory whispered through her mind like the scent of wood smoke on the night air, instinctive as the fear of the falling, and things that lurked in the dark.

Damage report, sir?” Skotchdopole asked, climbing off his console into his seat. “To hell with that!” he roared, this was no accidental side-effect of arriving – it was clear they were under attack by hostile aliens. “Fire! Shoot the crap outta them!

Do not judge a book by its price!

Dreams are hopeful because they exist as pure possibility.

Do you know what an Asterion is?” “Do you?” Nika caught herself before she flinched, frowned, gasped or gave any other outward sign of surprise, but it was definitely not the response she’d anticipated. “Explain your answer.” “If you were capable of comprehending my explanation, my answer would no longer be needed. I will instead give you the answer you were expecting: Asterions are a species of hybrid synthetic-organic beings of moderate sapience who practice self-directed evolution.” Moderate sapience? She bit back a tart retort; a diplomat never got offended or angry unless they intended to do so.

Don’t fret, dreamy spinning ones with water falling from your faces. It’s us you’re waiting for and we’re coming.

Dream what you want, and then you can likely create it

Driving in your world seems a bit dangerous.

Emily climbed onto a large boulder, watching the heavens while listening to the waves that were melodically splashing to the granite rocks. Then, she petrified and curdled: two stars in the sky were moving quickly, changing the angles of the trajectory radically and sharply… disappearing and appearing again. In a few seconds, the third one joined them, doing the same. —But it can’t be real! —Emma exclaimed, finding herself reaching her arm upwards. —No… can’t be real… just can’t… The girl dropped her glance down, unconsciously hoping that if she didn't see the UFOs, they would stop existing. She took a long breath, and, making as huge leaps as she could do with her little feet, ran back to the streets of the village.

Evening had turned the sky a deep persimmon. The remaining sunlight enriched the colors of the ubiquitous flowers and foliage to even greater vibrancy, as if the saturation filter had been notched up several levels. Caleb noted all this in passing as he strode deliberately forward. He didn’t know how he was going to do this, only that he had to make the attempt.

Even if such beauty wasn't meant to be in a world so fallen as ours, that didn't take away from its beauty. It only made it more beautiful.

Even if the aliens are short, dour, and sexually obsessed—if they’re here, I want to know about them.

El Paso,” Andrej echoed slowly. “You do know there’s nothing in El Paso but dust, heat, and illegal aliens, right?

Every loving, endearing, romance of language he published in the newspapers about the haunted mansion had only been to lower her guard. To weaken her. To lure her. To keep it from being demolished before he got the chance to bleed her of everything she'd ever been worth.

Everything's going to be okay', because that's what I wanted him to say and it's what he wanted to say and that's what you do when the curtain is falling — you give the line that the audience wants to hear.

Except they kept asking me questions like 'What is your biggest source of conflict about the Pope?' Or 'Has the Pope ever tried to suppress your scientific work?' Completely out of left field! "They didn't want to hear me tell them how much Pope Benedict supported the Vatican Observatory and its scientific work. So, finally, frustrated that they weren't getting the story they wanted out of me, one of them asked, 'Would you baptize an extraterrestrial?' "What did you answer?" "Only if she asks!" "I love it! How did they react?" "They all got a good laugh, which is what I intended. And then, the next day, they all ran my joke as if it were a straight story, as if I had made some sort of official Vatican pronouncement about aliens.

Expect an army of Vigil drones, nearly as a many Praesidis guards, a Machim ground detachment of super-soldiers and at least one Inquisitor. Oh, and security barriers everywhere. Possibly some of those mechs we met on Helix Retention, too. You Humans have kicked off a shitstorm of epic proportions.” Alex spread her arms wide in an exagerrated shrug. “It’s one of our best skills.

For a being more advanced than I am, he sure has a hard time answering a simple question

For some reason, I am certain that there is something I'm missing, something vital. Perhaps this is just more self-deception, yet another attempt to prove to myself that I'm not worthless.

Freedom isn't an illusion; it's perfectly real in the context of sequential consciousness. Within the context of simultaneous consciousness, freedom is not meaningful, but neither is coercion; it's simply a different context, no more or less valid than the other. It's like that famous optical illusion, the drawing of either an elegant young woman, face turned away from the viewer, or a wart-nosed crone, chin tucked down on her chest. There's no “correct” interpretation; both are equally valid. But you can't see both at the same time. “Similarly, knowledge of the future was incompatible with free will. What made it possible for me to exercise freedom of choice also made it impossible for me to know the future. Conversely, now that I know the future, I would never act contrary to that future, including telling others what I know: those who know the future don't talk about it. Those who've read the Book of Ages never admit to it.

From the exoplanet data, astronomers can now say with confidence that one out of every five stars hosts a world where life as we know it could form. So, when you’re standing out there under the night sky, choose five random stars. Chances are, one of them has a world in its Goldilocks zone where liquid water could be flowing across its surface and life might already exist.

For the first time in his centuries of life, doing the right thing didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

Eyuran,” I addressed his Node. “What was in this one?” He came closer and studied the huge case, which was easily twice the height of an adult Danna and had body slots for some kind of gear. “I don’t know for sure. I haven't seen this before. It resembles a gearbot sarx, but those are usually larger. Must be a new, compact model.” Observing the empty sarx, a wave of bad feelings came over me. “I also saw some of the weapon crates with broken locks.” “If someone is operating a gearbot, a bunch of guns will be the least of our worries. A hull repairer can’t even begin to compete with the power of an assault exomachine.” He looked around and frowned. “By the way, the whole hull repairer rack is empty. Counting the one you took out, we should have seven more roaming somewhere on the ship.

Getting over her had been impossible. A day hadn’t gone by that he hadn’t thought of her, yearned for her. Sometimes he felt as if he couldn’t breathe if he didn’t see her again. He’d had to come back to make things right no matter how it ended.

Glacier blue plasma rippled and sparked across the interior of the portal. “It seems keeping secrets is what you do.” “Secrets are merely the necessary means. Survival is the end goal. Survival of ourselves, survival of species who do not deserve to be eradicated from the universe. Survival of the universe itself.” “Survival’s noble and all, but what good is it without the freedom to live as you choose?” “A question you have the luxury to ask because you survive.

God is playing out every possible scenario in an infinite number of universes all at the same time. We just happen to be stuck with this one… - Ska Martin, Aliens versus God

Grainger looked exasperated. “Why don’t you just come straight out and use the word aliens? “Because we’re the aliens here.

Grayson figured the Aliens R Us crew would want to spend the majority of their time near the open field because rumor had it, if you stayed the night at the fire pit and glanced over, you'd see a beam of light touch the ground.

Happy Sunday Churchgoers, Look at your Neigbor,and say: "@!#$@%^&*()_$#%#$$%^" That's Martian for "you're awesome.

Haydn’s instructions are imprinted on my brain much the same way Logan’s face is imprinted on my heart.

He checked her over while mentally checking himself. “Environment suits sealed up. Breather masks in hand. Daemons. Blades. Transmitters. Healthy respect for the adversary—you’ve got that, right?” One corner of her mouth curled up. “Absolutely.

He is the biggest asshole on the planet,” Jarod says. “And in a planet that’s currently drowning in assholes, that’s saying a lot.

He made sure his tone remained casual. He was trying to keep his son unaware of the encroaching alien invasion for as long as he could, be it another day or another hour. Once innocence was lost it was never regained. So he took his son fishing and strolled along the river and pretended as though the galaxy wasn’t on fire.

Her perception was propelled backward, as if it were being pulled into a vortex. She slammed into her body, and her eyes flew open with a gasp. “Alex?” She sat straight up in the chair and grabbed Caleb by the shoulders. “We have to save them.

Her head dropped into her hands. Dammit! She’d spent months preparing for the challenges of a war against an immortal enemy wielding vastly superior numbers. She’d spent years preparing for the challenges of leading an assemblage of disparate fleets headed by disparate personalities. But it had never occurred to her to prepare for the challenges of her dead husband walking back into her life in the middle of both. She had no idea what to do, but she was fairly certain she was doing it wrong.

He struck his temples with his fists and screamed: 'Haven't you ever seen a goddam DC converter? You can get them at Radio Shack for three bucks! Are you seriously trying to tell me you couldn't have made a simple DC converter when you can make your tractor fly and your typewriter run on telepathy? Are you? 'Nobody thought of it!' she screamed suddenly.

His brain didn't want her to go, and he was afraid his subconscious would badger it's only witness into believing she didn't have to.

His vision blurred, his grip on the dash faltered and the cockpit lost definition. Then all the diati rushed back to him in its own shockwave. The physical force slammed him against the cockpit half-wall. He gasped air into his lungs as a crimson aura throbbed above his skin. The world spun around him, and it occurred to him if he wanted to he could control it—not the spinning, but the world.

Hollywood movies, however, have brainwashed us into thinking that we can defeat the alien invaders if they are a few decades or centuries ahead of us in technology. Hollywood assumes that we can win by using some primitive, clever trick. In Independence Day, all we have to do is inject a simple computer virus into their operating system to bring them to their knees, as if the aliens use Microsoft Windows.

How ugly we must look to them, spilling light into every dark corner to push back the shadows, blinding ourselves to the true beauty of emptiness.

He wasn’t going to be able to deactivate the field, which meant there was only one choice. He’d realized early on that his arcane, profoundly alien passenger came with a cost, possibly one too high to pay and get out the other side free and clear. He’d pay it nonetheless and without complaint if the diati would only come through for him now. Caleb closed his eyes.

How would you rather die?" she snapped. "Hiding under your bed or riding Thunder Mountain?

Humans and animals regard each other across a gulf of mutual incomprehension. With aliens, that has to go double.

Human-like species will not exist elsewhere in the universe, unless they live exactly in an earth-like environment.