Best 529 quotes in «sci fi quotes» category

Being a mercenary, though... Hey, we just go wherever there's a mixture of money and trouble, and everyone in the galaxy is a potential customer. Even the people you're paid to shoot at? Well, yeah. There are customers we serve, and customers we service. -Captain Kevyn Andreyasn & General Tagon

Being common doesn't make something right.

Being on the edge is always worse than going through

Berkumpulah, intailah, berkhianatilah, rencanakanlah dan bersiasatlah di malam hari. Sesungguhnya Allah maha mencatat apa yang kalian rencanakan.

Beyond the haze, the globe was decorated with a mosaic of sapphire, emerald and amber. The planet glittered like a jewel in the moonlight.

Blacker than the night, the wedge penetrated the darkness. An F 117 raced by, the roar from its engines screaming through the interior of the chopper, and then it sliced away a piece of sky and disappeared into the void. -Narrator, Truth Insurrected: The Saint Mary Project

BLUE, THE colour of the sky, of the ocean, of certain stars and planets and the hue of the bluest eyes you have ever seen.

Boson forces don't exist in Quantum space. The Light of the World is only found this side of the Timewall.

Brahman and I are buddies.

Brother, when you've been here as long as I have, you'll come to discover there are only one or two essential things worth living for. Unique to you and you alone. My honor is one of them for me. I keep my honor by keeping the relic out of their hands.

But I can't drop my death. I'll hold ít to the end, I'll cherísh it, hate it, eat it, drink ít, listen to it, give it my bed, mourn it, everythíng but let ít go.

But the Butlerians turn fear into violence and panic into a weapon. By creating imaginary problems and raising the specter of nonexistent enemies, they transform common people into a wild herd that destroys everything they do not understand.

By your eighteenth birthday you're supposed to know. They're supposed to tell you. Splicer. True Born. Laster.

But you’re one of the most talented young men I know.' 'Well, you don’t know that many then.

Come in." The kid turned and walked toward the house. "I'll help you if I can." He paused, his brown eyes turned toward Stacy who now stood open-mouthed. "But you'll have to do something for me in return." I frowned. "Like what?" "Hide me from my mother," he said. His eyes were shiny with fresh tears. I snorted. "Do you mean your mother, the beauty queen?" "No," he said softly. His face suddenly seemed older. "I mean my mother, the monster.

Can the child who is Dell; be the outer emoodiment of man's quest to save himself? To cure himself?...Or, to "be" himself?

Carol, I thought you didn't liked playing with the minds of normal people.” “Yes, but the press don't count as normal.” “She’s got you there,” HARV added.

Criminal activity exploded throughout the city – thugs multiplied by the thousands. Without fear of rebuke, there was nothing to stop them. It is the ultimate penalty that comes with tolerating the intolerant.

Could we possible manage the next phase of human history without first dealing with this penchant for dehumanizing the adversary?

Darrow: "Does he really believe believe in magic?" I ask. Daxo Au Telemanus: "He says gnomes steals ear wax from him at night. Mother thinks he's been hit too many times in the head." Daxo backs away following his father. But he can't hide the his clever smile as he pops a jellybean into his mouth. And I see where the ones in my pocket came from. "I say he just lives in a more entertaining world than we do.

Death whispers your name to me.

Dave had been fun when they’d first dated. Then impending fatherhood had sobered him at the same time Mickle and Company had crooked its finger, turning him from Mr. Right to Mr. Wrong.

Deep down, we all have our dark thoughts, Kathy. Mine are no different than any others. My life was planned for me, like my body was engineered to be what it is, a Prime Elite. But underneath it all I am still a man. Though I did not want this bonding at the beginning, it is now a part of me . . . and a part of you. We will work things out, my wife and we will do it together, that is what I accept. Also,” he adjusted his arm around her, feeling her discomfort. “I know that without you there is an emptiness that I cannot put into words. It is an emptiness that I will not live with. Thus, I do not wish to be free of you . . . ever.

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.

Did he seem crazy?" Captain Geechy seemed perplexed. "No. He was quite calm and businesslike, actually. Why do you ask?" "I ask because his plan to get rich involves hijacking a starship full of dead people," she said. "That seems like the act of someone who isn't in their right mind. It concerns me that someone not in their right mind is holding me hostage.

Does that mean that if we shave all the Ob'enn they'll be nice?

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.

Dion lit a cigarette. "All I know is, something's up with those bastards. I can feel it.

Earlier that day, a typewriter bomb had exploded at a black market skin house over on Eel Street, sending words raining through the cardboard walls of the boudoirs and tattooing copies of the Machinist’s ‘Twelve Terms’ on the bodies of whores and patrons alike. Forty pieces of merch ruined. Their bodies had been obliterated by language, all traces of their sexuality buried beneath a storm of words. There was something horrific about the sight of those who had survived a typewriter attack. Their faces scarred with text, as if they had become hostages to some awful advertisement. A few of the victims took to working the streets around the library where bibliophiles sometimes paid them to satisfy their fantasies amid the desolate hush of the reading rooms and the deserted stacks where the only witnesses to this erotic pantomime of the blank body and its printed partner were other words.

Do you know why the lotus is one of my favorite flowers?" I cocked my head to one side so I could see his expression. He shook his head. "This beautiful flower lives in the most vile, muddy water of swamps and bogs," I said and rubbed the smooth metal of the pendant between my fingers. He frowned. "No, seriously... the grosser the environment, the better," I said. "So let me get this straight. You like a flower that lives in disgusting places?" One of his eyebrows rose. "That ain't right." "No, I love this flower," I corrected. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, "Seriously?" "What?" You don't believe me?" "Sure, I believe you. It's just weird." "I'll tell you why, but only if you promise not to laugh," I said. He nodded. Taking a cleansing breath, I rested my head against the seat, closed my eyes, and took that scary first step. "This flower stays in the mud and muck all night long." I peeked at him without moving my head. His face had become set in the smooth lines of one who listens intently. "Then, at sunrise, it climbs toward the light and opens into a pristine bloom. After the sun goes down, the bloom sinks into the mire. Even though it spends the whole night underwater, the flower emerges every morning as beautiful as the day before." Smiling, I swiveled in my seat to face him. "I love this flower because it reminds me that we get second chances every day, no matter what muck life drags us through.

Dwell in the past, worry about the future and find misery in the present.

Each time Olan Chapman comes to life, his anti-quarks remain on the far side of the Time Wall. After his life cycle ends, his quarks collapse back to these roots, and – presto – America's most wanted man is ready for his next adventure.

Efficiency was just a measurement of how fast money moved from the poor to the rich. We prefer the opposite of efficiency, which is to say, justice.

El tiempo es como el mercurio: aunque intentes dividirlo en partes más pequeñas, se reconstituye al instante, de nuevo entero sin forma. Los hombres lo han domesticado, lo han encadenado a sus relojes y cronómetros, y fluye igual para todos los que lo han encadenado. Pero déjalo libre, y verás.

Don’t talk. Don’t sputter out a solitary protest or it will be your last. Take me to them.” “Who the f**k are you?” He palmed the man’s forehead and slammed his skull against the wall. “I said don’t talk, and you want to do as I say. I’m the one thing monsters like you and your kind fear. I’m what haunts your nightmares and hunts you in the darkness.

Don't worry, boss,” HARV said. “I get the feeling that this is only the tip of the iceberg of complications.” “HARV, you’re a machine. You don’t get feelings.” “Would it make you feel better if I said I've done a numerical analysis on the probabilities and the results are skewed toward you having more problems with this case?

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.

Eagles can fly higher than other birds, but a small sparrow can evade much better and has a better chance to survive, if falls off the height. (Sentence from my ebook, Tora-Bora mountains)

...el Día Uno es todo el primer momento de tu vida en el cual estás atravesado por las instituciones y aprendés, en el mejor de los casos, a desconfiar de ellas, mientras dejás que tejan hilos firmes, en tu cráneo, con la intención de no dejar espacios vacíos: los agujeros del sistema [...] El Día Dos empieza y su amanecer es plateado, con una nueva y no menos firme institución que son las sustancias, legales o ilegales, y algún tipo de pretensión, o nada. En los dos casos, todos los días son el mismo.

Ennesby, get the Serial Peacemaker to the beach for dustoff." "Dustoff? You're going to run away from three guys?" "No, I'm going to kill or capture those three guys, and then run away from the Police.

Fear shuts down people, but it wakes you up ---Four

Everything was so much sharper without the Link fogging me--sights, sounds, smells. It was exhilarating and shocking and terrifying. I knew my emotions had grown too strong. They were dangerous to the Community. They were dangerous to me. But still, I wanted color. I wanted to soar with happiness even if it meant dealing with the weight of fear and guilt, too. I wanted to live. And that meant that I couldn't give the glitching up. At least not yet. Just a little bit longer.

Falling apart wasn't an option.

Feeds and streams contribute to the fracturing of our consciousness.

Eso hubiese sido una paradoja -habló Lesperance-. El tiempo no permite esas confusiones…, un hombre que se encuentra consigo mismo. Cuando va a ocurrir algo parecido, el tiempo se hace a un lado.

ESPE: So, in both conversations, Lama Sangyay steers you away from thinking directly about Epifanio or your relationship (or lack thereof) and right into the nature of your mind. So masterful. CLARA: Isn't he? I hate those instructions. I do not want to do those contemplations. I want Epifanio! ESPE [laughing]: Of course you do. How does it feel to want? CLARA: "Et tu, Brute?" ESPE: Oh, sí, Señora. ¡Yo también!

Even an Astral Adventure needs a little sensuality. "Perhaps you can show me how tastefully decorated your bedroom is." Lee probably felt I did not know what to do next and needed direction. Maybe so, but I did know our coffee was going to get cold.

Every cell of my body says, ‘Oh god yes! Crime? I can do some crime!’ I want this ship like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. I had a poster of the first-ever Breakbolt model on my bedroom wall when I was nine. It’s like a manifestation of every dream I’ve ever had, everything I’ve ever wanted for myself: a piloting license, a beautiful ship under me, and stars out the viewport. Child Nax says, ‘Do it, do the crime!

Every flutter in her chest when he sat beside her, every flush to her cheeks after a compliment, and every longer-than-average embrace would end tonight.

Fleshers used to spin fantasies about aliens arriving to ‘conquer’ Earth, to steal their ‘precious’ physical resources, to wipe them out for fear of ‘competition’…as if a species capable of making the journey wouldn’t have had the power, or the wit, or the imagination, to rid itself of obsolete biological imperatives. Conquering the Galaxy is what bacteria with spaceships would do – knowing no better, having no choice.