Best 529 quotes in «sci fi quotes» category

In that moment, she hated his quiet patient tone, hated the stench of the incense, and hated the beauteous pity painted on the faces of the women on the walls. Their expressions contained serene understanding; their eyes seemed able to peer into her soul. She found their forgiveness suffocating. And above all, she hated the tiny niggling thing in her that wanted to know more.

Into the darkness with the light of the moon beaming upon me. Bathing in the luminosity of it awakening the demon that is me!

I really don't know who I am, so I don't know when to stop, so when I see a big threatening button that should never ever be touched, I just want to do this!

I see sarcastic and obscene visions of angels and demons flirting with the souls of men creating horror and deities in surreal worlds, and writing plays for us to perform; while I am being dragged into the darkness. I want to know who is doing all this… I fell back into that lethargic dream of bottomless pits and deserts hanging from the skies.

I see why Demokracy is illegal. First comes yelling. Frustration. Indecision. Disagreements. Ideas.

Is it just me or is this like a bad TV sci-fi show?

I smiled, reached into my pockets and pulled out a pair of ultrapowerful earplugs, the kind that are standard issue for skyway construction workers, artillery soldiers, and roadies for the thirty-five most popular teen boy bands.

I smile broadly, feeling as warm and full as the sun.

Is mixed-up place another way; they care about skin color--by making point of how they don't care.

I sort of liked the sound of bones breaking. It was like home.

Issib wasn't thrilled to see him. I'm busy and don't need interruptions." "This is the household library," said Nafai. "This is where we always come to do research." "See? You're interrupting already." "Look, I didn't say anything, I just came in here, and you started picking at me the second I walked in the door." "I was hoping you'd walk back out." "I can't. Mother sent me here." Nafai walked over behind Issib, who was floating comfortably in the air in front of his computer display. It was layered thirty pages deep, but each page had only a few words on it, so he could see almost everything at once. Like a game of solitaire, in which Issib was simply moving fragments from place to place. The fragments were all words in weird languages. The ones Nafai recognized were very old. "What language is that?" Nafai asked pointing, to one. Issib signed. "I'm so glad you're not interrupting me." "What is it, some ancient form of Vijati?" "Very good. It's Slucajan, which came from Obilazati, the original form of Vijati. It's dead now." "I read Vijati, you know." "I don't." "Oh, so you're specializing in ancient, obscure languages that nobody speaks anymore, including you?" "I'm not learning these languages, I'm researching lost words." "If the whole language is dead, then all the words are lost." "Words that used to have meanings, but that died out or survived only in idiomatic expressions. Like 'dancing bear.' What's a bear, do you know?" "I don't know. I always thought it was some kind of graceful bird." "Wrong. It's an ancient mammal. Known only on Earth, I think, and not brought here. Or it died out soon. It was bigger than a man, very powerful. A predator." "And it danced?" "The expression used to mean something absurdly clumsy. Like a dog walking on its hind legs." "And now it means the opposite. That's weird. How could it change?" "Because there aren't any bears. THe meaning used to be obvious, because everybody knew a bear and how clumsy it would look, dancing. But when the bears were gone, the meaning could go anywhere. Now we use it for a person who's extremely deft in getting out of an embarrassing social situation. It's the only case that we use the word bear anymore. And you see a lot of people misspelling it, too." "Great stuff. You doing a linguistics project?" "No." "What's this for, then?" "Me." "Just collection old idioms?" "Lost words." "Like bear? The word isn't lost, Issya. It's the bears that are gone." "Very good, Nyef. You get full credit for the assignment. Go away now.

I still have the scars from when they captured me and beat me in the middle of the street." "You don't get scars." "Emotional scars then.

I suppose there are some advantages to this place,' he admitted. 'I bet it's fucking raining in Stirling.

It all came back to human time and utterly human impulses: in the end, gods did not appreciate godlike power, but humans did.

It be more a feeling. Something swirls out in the beyond, something unnatural. It’s the reason so few venture to these worlds. The black spaces are a part of it, pieces unraveling pulling apart. We’ve come too far, waited too long to turn back now. Only death awaits us here.

It could be a work of art among vendettas

It didn't take a synthetic mind to decipher Caleb Shepperd, just a human one." ~ #1001

It had taken going to hell for Zed to find what he'd unknowingly been searching for his whole life.

I think you should listen to your heart. It is there the True One speaks to us most.

It is a foible of our human nature that when we have an extremely unpleasant experience, it gives us a peculiar satisfaction if it is “the biggest” of its disagreeable kind that has happened since the world began. During a heat wave, for instance, we are very pleased if the papers announce that it is “the highest temperature reached since the year 1881,” and we feel a little resentment towards the year 1881 for having gone us one better. Or if our ears are frozen till all the skin peels off, it fills us with a certain happiness to learn that “it was the hardest frost recorded since 1786.” It is just the same with wars. The war in progress is either the most righteous or the bloodiest, or the most successful, or the longest, since such and such a time; any superlative whatever always affords us the proud satisfaction of having been through something extraordinary and record-breaking.

It illuminated a vision Dante could not have imagined in his wildest nightmares, nor Poe in the grasp of an uncontrollable delirium.

It made Craze smile, despite wishing most of his body parts would find new homes and leave him in peace.

It isn’t writers block, you’re having a creative rest

I told you it was easy,” HARV said. “True, but you say that about everything.” “That's because everything is easy for me.” “Everything but humility.” “No, that's easy, too. I just choose not to practice it.

I told you stupid sons of bitches that this was going to happen!

It’s called the Pyxis,” said Raven. “Don’t let the fancy name intimidate you. It just means ‘box’ in one of those Old Earth languages, Roman or Spanish or Klingon…

It seemed that, after contact with a few human generations, sand hogs would begin to understand human speech. The irony was that after coming to understand their riders fully, the beasts often ended up abandoning them and heading off into the wilderness.

It’s you,” she murmured, staring at his eyes, a fine, dove gray. He smiled. “Of course, it’s me. Let’s get you back to your boat.

It takes use to make knowledge worthwhile.

It was a subversive notion, the idea that she was free. Free to choose where to go and what to do with her time.

It was a well-known fact that keeping track of time was not Parry Pretty's forte...If time were Parry's pet, it would have died tied to a tree somewhere out back long ago.

It wasn't premeditated. It was what needed to be done. So I did it.

It was possible to look at actual smartphones and tablets and laptops that had been manufactured on Old Earth. They did not work anymore, but their technical capabilities were described on little placards. And they were impressive compared to what Kath Two and other modern people carried around in their pockets. This ran contrary to most people's intuition, since in other areas the achievements of the modern world - the habitat ring, the Eye, and all the rest - were so vastly greater than what the people of Old Earth had ever accomplished. It boiled down to Amistics [the choices that different cultures made as to which technologies they would, and would not, make part of their lives]. In the decades before Zero, the Old Earthers had focused their intelligence on the small and the soft, not the big and the hard, and built a civilization that was puny and crumbling where physical infrastructure was concerned, but astonishingly sophisticated when it came to networked communications and software. The density with which they'd been able to pack transistors onto chips still had not been matched by any fabrication plant now in existence. Their devices could hold more data than anything you could buy today. Their ability to communicate through all sorts of wireless schemes was only now being matched - and that only in densely populated, affluent places like the Great Chain... Anyone who bothered to learn the history of the developed world in the years just before Zero understood perfectly well that Tavistock Prowse had been squarely in the middle of the normal range, as far as his social media habits and attention span had been concerned. But nevertheless, Blues called it Tav's Mistake. They didn't want to make it again. Any efforts made by modern consumer-goods manufacturers to produce the kinds of devices and apps that had disordered the brain of Tav were met with the same instinctive pushback as Victorian clergy might have directed against the inventor of a masturbation machine. To the extent the Blue's engineers could build electronics of comparable sophistication to those that Tav had used, they tended to put them into devices such as robots...

I’ve always thought of school as a rehearsal. Not the main event.

I've got a thing about heights." Nate glanced at her. "I thought you had a thing about bugs?" "I've got more than one thing, it's allowed." "You were okay up in the loft, said Debbie. "Because the loft is a nice big space with guard rails," Veek said. "A ladder's a flag pole with delusions of grandeur.

I realized that words have power. They have points and edges that can cut deep, and up until then, I wasn’t very careful with them. I was part of the problem.

It was as if he knew this place, strange and mysterious though it was, was part of him, in some way. Part of his life. He no more questioned his disposition than he would question why he breathed.

It was unhealthy to get too attached. Such things were best reserved for people who had a life expectancy

It would not do to be Lord of a universe inhabited solely by serfs.

I’ve waited for him to invite my confidence, to fill the void my mother’s death left in my life. I’ve hungered for his affection. But he made me wait too long.

I want to breath the same air as you every minute of every day of my life. No matter how many timelines I live.

I was on the floor. "Um, a little help?" Christopher put his hand down. Martini cleared his throat and Christopher's hand retracted. "I can handle it, thanks." "There's nothing amorous about pulling someone off the floor," Christopher muttered. "There is when I do it.

I was so caught up in the video that I didn’t hear the door to the cleaning stall open. The first things I noticed were footsteps coming toward me. Case was naked from the waist up. As he walked, he rubbed his hair with a small cloth to help along the drying process. I sputtered as I sat up, swinging my feet to the cool floor, refusing to flinch as my bare feet came in contact with the ground. “Where are your clothes?” I asked.

I was wrong though. The hike was longer than I had remembered, and I did manage to get lost. So I was wandering down there, imagining the glory of the awesome battle happening above, when my father infamously broke ranks and fled from the enemy. His own flight shot him down in retribution. By the time I got home, the battle had been won, my father was gone. And I'd been branded the daughter of a coward.

I would wish you gods speed but I don’t want you to waste time looking for him.

I would have liked to experience more of the heptapods' worldview, to feel the way they feel. Then, perhaps I could immerse myself fully in the necessity of events, as the must, instead of merely wading in its surf for the rest of my life.

I write from the heart and do not edit and edit ... my works (music or writing). Although most writers do, and as I read their works its impossible for me to believe that they either talk or even think like that.

James would only look for music composed and performed by humans. Nowadays people didn’t feel the need to learn to play musical instruments. And why would they, since the sounds they produced could be perfectly generated digitally. Human voices were sample recorded, then modified and remastered by artificial intelligence. Where did our creativity go?

James had been acting a little weird. After waking up yesterday, he'd been a little bit distant. It might just be the stress of the trip. It was probably hard on James to be in charge of the little group. He was responsible for the welfare of his lover, a nun, and a talking horse. That couldn't be easy.

Just untrustworthy persons can be invisible, not because of their willingness seemingly to be confidential, but because of their fear to be identified. A reliable person wouldn't disappear and wouldn't be invisible. To be invisible is a feature and principle of spies, otherwise, you cannot put on them the stamp of spies.