Best 516 quotes in «aliens quotes» category

New York was home for Czerny, the same way Chicago was home for me. You don’t really know how attached you are until you move away, until you’ve experienced what it means to be dislodged, a cork floating on the ocean of another place.

Nikolai had expected to have to fight the urge to torture the progeny of his father’s murderer, but he had never anticipated fighting the urge to fuck her.

Nisi flashed his charismatic, mysterious smile. “Now, with this in mind, are you ready to take the next step?” Despite Caleb’s attempts at caution—at circumspection and even suspicion—the man’s words stirred his blood. They teased the possibilities of the power within his reach, real power extending far beyond parlor tricks and personal protection to a place where the course of life itself could be changed. “I am.

Note from Alien cookbook: “The more intelligent the human is, the better it tastes.

No, we absolutely should do it. If we can capture such a motherlode, it could make a pivotal difference in the coming war. We need it. AEGIS needs it, my mother needs it. This is why we’re here. “I’m merely pausing at the precipice of the cliff, peeking down into the chasm and asking, ‘Are we sure?’ So…” Alex eyed him wearing an uneasy grimace “…are we sure?

Occasionally, I get a letter from someone who is in “contact” with extraterrestrials. I am invited to “ask them anything.” And so over the years I’ve prepared a little list of questions. The extraterrestrials are very advanced, remember. So I ask things like, “Please provide a short proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem.” Or the Goldbach Conjecture. And then I have to explain what these are, because extraterrestrials will not call it Fermat’s Last Theorem. So I write out the simple equation with the exponents. I never get an answer. On the other hand, if I ask something like “Should we be good?” I almost always get an answer.

Of course. I died today, and now I'm going to fight aliens with a light saber. Maybe after that we can look for mermaids. Or unicorns." "No," he says. "Just aliens." Was that the barest hint of humour in his tone?

[O]ver the years I travelled to another universe. However alert we are, however much we think we know what will happen, antiquity remains an unknown, unanticipated galaxy. It is alien, and old people are a separate form of life. They have green skin, with two heads that sprout antennae. They can be pleasant, they can be annoying--in the supermarket, these old ladies won't get out of my way--but most important they are permanently other. When we turn eighty, we understand that we are extraterrestrial. If we forget for a moment that we are old, we are reminded when we try to stand up, or when we encounter someone young, who appears to observe green skin, extra heads, and protuberances.

people go insane without fairy tales

People gravitated here for the open air, the prolific intoxicants and the visual treats. They made the deals here that were later played out elsewhere. They drank and got high. Sometimes they fought, not for money but for sport or grudge. They were the desperate and the daring, the lost and the searching. Tonight, they were his audience. Tomorrow, they would be his front line.

Persons such as Isaac Asimov and Carl Sagan say that tens of thousands (maybe tens of millions) of planets will fulfill the conditions for the support of life. And then they take the rather deceptive step from the ‘possibility of life’ to the ‘inevitability of life’ by such connivance as would shame a crooked gambler. They posit towering numbers of ‘civilizations’ on those ‘possibility-of-life planets’, at least half of them to be more advanced than the Civilization of Earth and Humankind. But there is a strong element of Advocacy Science in this. There is a great and powerful lobby advocating the existence of great numbers of superior civilizations. One reason for this is that the secular-liberal-agnostic-relativistic faction of scientists cannot allow the uniqueness of anything, not of Earth, not of Life, certainly not of Human Life, most certainly not of existing Human Civilization. To allow the uniqueness of any of these things, they would have to cease to be secular-liberal-agnostic-relativistic persons. And the shock of changing their style would kill all of them. Science Fiction also has a vested interest in there being a multiplicity of inhabited worlds and civilizations. That is one of the small number of things that Science Fiction is about. But Science Fiction is, after all, only a fiction.

Popularity is teenage heroin.

Rough lips crashed against her own, and all those problems she’d had with breathing? They were a dim memory as her panic was replaced by something much better. If this was what human kissing was like, she could understand why it caused people’s clothes to fall off. She wished her clothes would start falling off already.

Sci-fi doesn't show me much about alien's nature but shows a lot about North American nature.

Seriously, Palta…” He was honestly puzzled, “I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about. What about your ears is supposed to be so bizarre?” “Um…You’d have to be blind to miss them,” I replied sarcastically. “If you’re not, you will be when you poke your eye out on one of them.

She and Kennedy both dove for the power connector; Kennedy reached it first and yanked out the connection as Alex landed on her stomach beside it. The air settled down until the fine hairs on her arm no longer stood on end. Alex dropped her forehead to the platform and started laughing. “Just like university, isn’t it?” “Almost—nothing’s actually blown up yet.

No doesn't mean to Marcus what it means to those without money and a car.

No matter what comes, we will persevere. It’s not over until we win.” Oh, how she wanted to believe him. How she wanted to believe that her father not only had all the answers, but the power to make everything okay. Once upon a time she had believed it; then he hadn’t come home. “Why are you so sure?” “Because I didn’t cross universes to return to life, simply to die again.

Not everyone can decode a dream! Dreamers are those abled minds that can read the intent of the dream in terms of energy, frequency & vibration...!

Now that we are all properly introduced,” I continue, “Back to business. Why are you here?” “Earthers need help, yes?” Janis asks. Led adds, “We have been approved to help.” “’Approved’?” I query. “By whom, or what?” They seem to turn to one another and confer silently. They then respond in that odd chorus, again, “The ‘Many Worlds Collective, InterGalactic Council’ sent us.” I sit back, a bit stunned. I mean, it’s one thing to be confronted by holograms that are not humans and not like anything on Earth. It’s quite a different thing to be told in clear terms that there are many worlds and that they are united in some way. “Is Earth a member?” Again, the “laughter.” Diana responds: “Yes, but Earthers mostly don’t know about being a member, yet. Most of you don’t even know about the Collective, right? You are to refer to it as the ‘MWC.’” I nod slowly. “Most of us?” “Well,” explains Led, “This is not our first contact with an Earther. We’ve been here all along and we’ve had thousands of contacts over the millennia. This is just the first one you’ll be allowed to make public.” “I will be allowed to make public?” I repeat, starting to panic a bit. I picture a media frenzy occurring right outside my rural cottage. Yikes! What is starting, here?

Often people meet other people by chatting via computer. They get to talking, seem to have a lot in common, even fall in love without ever meeting each other in person.” The farmer was staring at him. “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard.” “Unfortunately, often the person on the other end of the chat isn’t telling the truth about themselves. Jenna could have been lured by one of these people. They call it catfishing.

Once there were three tribes. The Optimists, whose patron saints were Drake and Sagan, believed in a universe crawling with gentle intelligence—spiritual brethren vaster and more enlightened than we, a great galactic siblinghood into whose ranks we would someday ascend. Surely, said the Optimists, space travel implies enlightenment, for it requires the control of great destructive energies. Any race which can't rise above its own brutal instincts will wipe itself out long before it learns to bridge the interstellar gulf. Across from the Optimists sat the Pessimists, who genuflected before graven images of Saint Fermi and a host of lesser lightweights. The Pessimists envisioned a lonely universe full of dead rocks and prokaryotic slime. The odds are just too low, they insisted. Too many rogues, too much radiation, too much eccentricity in too many orbits. It is a surpassing miracle that even one Earth exists; to hope for many is to abandon reason and embrace religious mania. After all, the universe is fourteen billion years old: if the galaxy were alive with intelligence, wouldn't it be here by now? Equidistant to the other two tribes sat the Historians. They didn't have too many thoughts on the probable prevalence of intelligent, spacefaring extraterrestrials— but if there are any, they said, they're not just going to be smart. They're going to be mean. It might seem almost too obvious a conclusion. What is Human history, if not an ongoing succession of greater technologies grinding lesser ones beneath their boots? But the subject wasn't merely Human history, or the unfair advantage that tools gave to any given side; the oppressed snatch up advanced weaponry as readily as the oppressor, given half a chance. No, the real issue was how those tools got there in the first place. The real issue was what tools are for. To the Historians, tools existed for only one reason: to force the universe into unnatural shapes. They treated nature as an enemy, they were by definition a rebellion against the way things were. Technology is a stunted thing in benign environments, it never thrived in any culture gripped by belief in natural harmony. Why invent fusion reactors if your climate is comfortable, if your food is abundant? Why build fortresses if you have no enemies? Why force change upon a world which poses no threat? Human civilization had a lot of branches, not so long ago. Even into the twenty-first century, a few isolated tribes had barely developed stone tools. Some settled down with agriculture. Others weren't content until they had ended nature itself, still others until they'd built cities in space. We all rested eventually, though. Each new technology trampled lesser ones, climbed to some complacent asymptote, and stopped—until my own mother packed herself away like a larva in honeycomb, softened by machinery, robbed of incentive by her own contentment. But history never said that everyone had to stop where we did. It only suggested that those who had stopped no longer struggled for existence. There could be other, more hellish worlds where the best Human technology would crumble, where the environment was still the enemy, where the only survivors were those who fought back with sharper tools and stronger empires. The threats contained in those environments would not be simple ones. Harsh weather and natural disasters either kill you or they don't, and once conquered—or adapted to— they lose their relevance. No, the only environmental factors that continued to matter were those that fought back, that countered new strategies with newer ones, that forced their enemies to scale ever-greater heights just to stay alive. Ultimately, the only enemy that mattered was an intelligent one. And if the best toys do end up in the hands of those who've never forgotten that life itself is an act of war against intelligent opponents, what does that say about a race whose machines travel between the stars?

On the inner side of the aquarium of reality, beliefs define the area of the prison.

On this planet are every kind of deadly animal from across the stars. The only people that come here are hunters looking for the most dangerous of trophies. No rescue. You either get your prize or you die.

people like to see will smith reacting to aliens

Please, God, please, don't let me be normal! (high school yearbook)

Quando una cosa è così meravigliosamente buona», gli rispose con aria sognante, «vuoi che duri il più possibile

Quinn dropped her hand and avoided Thalcu’s eye. “I . . . I don’t want to kill you,” she said to the floor. “Not if I could save you.” The woman smiled gently at Quinn, her lips curling behind her oxygen mask. “I will not really die,” she said, drawing Quinn’s surprised gaze. She looked at Quinn contently a moment and went on, “Do you know how worlds are born? From the first breath of a star. We are made of starlight. We can not bear to look into the sun, into the thing that birthed us, anymore than we can bear to look upon our parents in the throes of passion. It is our point of origin, and to it, we all must return.

Reluctantly, we had already accepted every challenge at the moment we were born. And as long as we live, we have no right to give up. For we, or at least someone very similar to us, already died once, long ago in a faraway place.

Remember Ping-fa, Sun Tzu,’ Art of War—read between the lines: kick ass and take names later.” Mad Stargirl

Rigg shrugged. “I know it makes you feel better, but I think it’s arrogant to believe in anything anyway.” “Is that so?” “Yeah,” Rigg said, frowning at the clouds. “No one can really know what’s out there. People are too small in the grand scheme of things. Saying we know and understand the gods is like a bug saying they know and understand our airships. They don’t and they can’t.” Hari smiled. “Fair enough.

Scorching, desiccated air blasted Nika as she stepped off the transport and peeled layers of moist tissue off her throat as she inhaled. She pivoted, yanked her heavy tactical shirt up over her head and tossed it inside the transport. The material was designed to protect her from blows and glancing cuts and would be less than useless against a Rasu attack— —a scorpion-like creature sporting a tail six centimeters long scurried past her feet in the sand, and she promptly retrieved the shirt and pulled it back on with a groan. The planet had defenses of its own, and the Rasu weren’t the only threat here.

Semantics, Admiral. I’d appreciate an honest answer.” “I’d appreciate a multitude of honest answers, but I rarely expect to receive them.” Miriam sighed; the verbal tete-a-tete was growing tiresome. Time to bring an end to it with, ironically, honesty.

She bends over, whispering in my ear. “Have you ever been with a guy?” “Yes,” I say, even though that quick fumble with Luca Parry in the factory closet doesn’t count for much. He was all grabby hands, sloppy mouth, and slimy tongue. It’s an experience I’m in no hurry to repeat. Ugh. A severe shiver travels up my spine with the memory.

She died without us by her side, and now, we are left with the scars. In time, perhaps they will fade, but for now, they're still hauntingly there reminding us of the loss and pain.

She died without us by her side, and now, we are left with the scars. In time, they may fade, but for now, they're still hauntingly there reminding us of the loss and pain. - Unlikely Love (coming soon)

She pointed to the wreckage of one of the frigates in the distance. Half the ship had landed atop one of the towers on the edge of the city, the other half on the flatland beyond. “You didn’t…do that, did you?” He shrugged with proper dramatic flair. “I did say I came to rescue you. They were in my way.

She's the gristle stuck between Time's teeth, and I love her for it.

Solum invoked a sensation akin to lingering déjà vu in the wake of a dream. It was not Earth. Its city-planet architectural stylings hid the outline of continents that might have otherwise been recognizable and altered the vibrant blue-and-green color palette enough to erase any familiarity in its silhouette. Yet if you tilted your head just so and let your gaze unfocus a little, you could almost see Earth. Its echo, its memory.

Sometimes, if you want to survive, you’ve got to run. You have to run as far and as fast as you can

Space, the place and the concept, is both empty and full. It is nothingness, and it is everything. It is soundless without silence. It is aloneness, but its visitors may not be alone. Space may bring answers that ask greater questions, an awareness of unforeseen connections, and new definitions of life.

Stop kicking me! I do not want to pee right now!

Take comfort in a light only darkness provides.

She couldn’t be the first alien to crash-land on twenty-first-century Earth.

She needed him. More than just his blood or the pleasure he offered with his playground of a body, she needed him—and that was far more terrifying than becoming a blood sucking monster.

She seemed to enjoy the control and picked out some stretch blue jeans that hugged his ass tighter than a pair of kissing Proulahs. On his world, once mated, the blue crustaceans shared a shell for the rest of their life in an eternal kiss.

She skidded around a corner, slamming her shoulder into the wall and bouncing off of it without slowing. Caleb? Silence. Forty-six meters. A long stretch of hallway. She pushed faster, harder. Twenty meters. She burst into the room in unison with a deafening crash of metal shearing metal.

She was an anomaly of her own universe and of his, and represented the collision of everything he'd ever known and everything he'd ever wanted to.

Speak peace unto the world and good souls will stand.

Standard procedure; the usual high volume of paperwork required to even sneeze on another planet.