Best 1974 quotes in «science fiction quotes» category

Alright. So how are we getting down there? Can you turn invisible or something?” “What do I look like? A magician?” “Well, can you fight?” “Can you?” “No,” said Thalcu with a sad laugh. “Zonbiri women aren’t allowed to handle anything bigger than a butter knife. Not legally, anyway. Besides, I could never shoot a gun. My hands are used to pushing remote control buttons, pounding game controllers . . . picking the good chips from the bag.

A machine does not care

A man’s ability to give is dwarfed by his ability to take. Those who profit by fulfilling man’s need to take by giving will be the most powerful on earth.

A man who lies to himself, and believes his own lies, becomes unable to recognize truth, either in himself or in anyone else, and he ends up losing respect for himself and for others. When he has no respect for anyone, he can no longer love, and in him, he yields to his impulses, indulges in the lowest form of pleasure, and behaves in the end like an animal in satisfying his vices.

Amazing Stories Mag: What does your writing process look like? Ursula K. Le Guin: It looks like a woman sitting at a desk, or staring out a window, or cooking dinner, or waking up in the morning, or whatever. You know what a ground bass is in music? A theme that keeps going on underneath, no matter what else is happening on top of it? Writing is the ground bass of my existence.

Am I less of a person because I weigh more?

A minute later the steam stopped. By then, I was soaking wet and, no doubt, my pores were open. Some people pay a fortune for this kind of beauty treatment. I got mine for free, if you disregard the bruises, headache and all those dead people." - Corin Hayes, Silent City (working title)

A moment later the scowling face of Admiral Jellico appeared on the screen. He looked as ill-humored as ever. Privately, Calhoun felt that somebody should send an away team into Jellico's ass, to determine just what had crawled up there and died years ago.

A mystery reader, confronted with a large mass of sudden detail, is going to go—subconsciously, at least—”Aha! somewhere in all of this the writer has planted a Clue!”, and look for that; a reader trained exclusively in mainstream literary fiction is likely to say, “Aha! all this emphasis must point to something of Thematic Importance!”, but an experienced reader of science fiction is going to assume that he or she is meant to take all of those details and out of them construct a world. Which is why the writer of a science-fiction mystery with literary ambitions is trying to do a quadruple somersault off the trapeze without a net.

Anaya inhaled the rich scent of soil, along with the sharp, citric smell of thriving vegetation and the sweetness of fresh dew. Her eyes drifted shut and she pricked up her ears, the gushing sound of the nearby waterfalls enveloping her.

Anaya sensed her opportunity and stole a moment to take in what Emberswick looked like in her teens. Still an engineering town, with a heap of lumber mills to show for it. It had been systematically envisioned and built around lush, small woods and pretty, little parks, spotted with bubbling fountains. A charming place to live, with a pleasant pace of life, and the people were just as engaging.

And Elvex said, "I was the man." - In "Robot dreams" (Short story)

And for those of us from communities with historic collective trauma, we must understand that each of us is already science fiction walking around on two legs. Our ancestors dreamed us up and then bent reality to create us.

And even though it was just one hug, it was enough to lift more dark.

And how will this come to pass?' He paused and lowered his voice. ' In the same way all change comes to pass, I fear, And I am sorry it is so. It will come to pass by violence and upheaval, by flame and by fury, for no change comes calmly over the world.

And I'm thinking about the old man. He'll be pounding on the glass right about now... or maybe not now. Maybe in a while. But he'll be pounding and... will there be blood? I like to imagine so. Yes, I rather think there will be blood. Lots of blood. Blood in extraordinary quantities.

And it didn't matter. It wouldn't make a fucking difference if I dropped to the floor and started crying like a baby. No point in panicking. No point in breaking. No point in anything at all.

And I walked across the gravel, towards the road and somewhere in the universe of my soul a fiery, life-giving star collapsed, and a very black hole began to form.

And like a good neighbor, Alpha Centauri is there.” Touched by an Alien

And maybe I can let go of the sting and resentment of the path not taken, because the path not taken isn't just the inverse of who I am. It's an infintely branching system that represents all the permutations of my life between the extremes of me and Jason2.

And now, we have no option. We can't say 'maybe' 'it's possible' 'it looks very probable...' No way! We have to say this is what the Bible teaches! This is fact! May 21, 2011 is the day of the Rapture, it is the day that Judgment Day begins...

And night falls on you too. You have survived, survived everything up to this moment. Grip tight, hum, laugh, cry. Forget nothing and think many things of it. Goodnight. Goodnight. Goodnight.

...and now over to our foriegn allegory correspondant, Barv Tweezman." ~The Shielding of Mortimer Townes

And she laughed, a full octave, descending from high C like chimes.

And so it goes. And so it goes. And so it goes. And so it goes goes goes goes goes tick tock tick tock tick tock and one day we no longer let time serve us, we serve time and we are slaves of the schedule, worshipers of the sun's passing, bound into a life predicated on restrictions because the system will not function if we don't keep the schedule tight.

And so, Anaya's story begins with her last thought. Would I have done this if I had any option but the grave?

And so the result of several years of Everybody Shareskyism, other than slaughtering people, is for everybody to stand around and stare blankly at each other.

And that was the thing, wasn’t it? When life rode on its highs, you wanted it to go on forever. But in the depths of the invariable dives, you’d be happy to be put out of your misery, because whatever awaited beyond this life had to be better than this shit on Earth.

And the Flatline aligned the nose of Kuang's sting with the center of the dark below. And dove. Case's sensory input warped with their velocity. His mouth filled with an aching taste of blue. His eyes were eggs of unstable crystal, vibrating with a frequency whose name was rain and the sounds of trains, suddenly sprouting a humming forest of hair-fine spines. The spines split, bisected, split again, exponential growth under the dome of the Tessier-Ashpool ice.

And suddenly, the earth was an alien place, and she a voyager without sure destination.

And then swooping back in again, even faster, one long incredible fall through the human-shape of me and this time down past where I don't know how to go any smaller and I find myself somehow looping around to out-past-too-big again; so that everything seems to fit inside the smallest place in me and vice versa. And then for a while I'm not sure if I am inside the universe or the universe is inside me. The only thing that seems for sure is that somewhere in all the dancing around of whatever it is that dances, there's a human-shape of me, with either everything inside of it or it is inside of everything, or somehow - don't ask me how - both at the same time.

And there I was, a woman who yearned so hard for the sky there had to be stars in my blood, yet I was stuck in Heliodor City, missing it all.

And then they came upon it. It was painted in the most cat-retch shade of beige you ever beheld.

And then they saw bearded Billy Pilgrim in his blue toga and silver shoes, with his hands in a muff. He looked at least sixty years old. Next to Billy was little Paul Lazzaro with a broken arm. He was fizzing with rabies. Next to Lazzaro was the poor old high school teacher, Edgar Derby, mournfully pregnant with patriotism and middle age and imaginary wisdom.

And there’s no synthetic owners manual?” His lips twitched, smile threatening to break into a grin. A joke. He wasn’t funny. “Do you come with an owners’ manual, Captain? Because I’d like to study your troubleshooting section.” “Would you like to strip me down to my nuts and bolts, and figure out what makes me tick?” “I knew what made you tick from the moment we first met. That’s why I punched you between the legs.” ~ #1001 & Caleb

Angels pawning Halos, Swan-diving through warm drops of rain, Soaking up champagne-shaded rays of bliss.

... and were making themselves into many things they have never been before: augmented, multi-sexed, and most importantly, very long lived, the oldest at that point being around two hundred years old. But not one whit wiser, or even more intelligent. Sad but true: individual intelligence probably peaked in the Upper Paleolithic, and we have been self-domesticated creatures ever since.

An eerie, chilling voice interrupted him to reverberate through the house. “You believe you are safe, but you will never be safe from me. My reach is limitless, my capabilities legion. Sleep fitfully and avoid the shadows, for know that I am coming for you. When I arrive, you will pay for what you did.

An infinitely unpleasant fraction of a second is a small price to pay for the opportunity to stride across eternity.

And tomorrow... what? Nobody knows. You understand? Neither I nor anyone else knows. It's unknown. You understand it's come to an end, everything that was known? Now it'll be new, never before seen or imagined.

And who is to say the truth can’t be a miracle?

An illusion is when everyone is in on the joke, a delusion is when you are the joke.

An innocent breath of life comes from the deep of all darkness! It just takes a moment, an instant and right after, everything becomes absolutely corrupted! The existence, the thought! I’ve lived in nothingness for eternities, I know, I have felt it, it was engraved in my soul. Although I cannot give faith and witness… I know; I’ve been in nothingness and from the nothingness I have returned..." An excerpt from the book: The Master Of Realities: The Labyrinth Of The Dead Souls

An old adage warns: If you don't know your history, you will be forever condemned to repeat it. Likewise, if you don't know your science fiction, and heed its warnings, you could condemn the Earth to future catastrophe.

A novel is a bridge from one heart to another. - Anon

A nosotros los estadounidenses, lo único que nos interesa es el consumo de nuestros productos. No nos interesa cómo los fabrican o qué les pasa, lo que pasa cuando los desechamos, cuando los tiramos a la basura.

An invisible blade of fire drew across the flesh of his shoulders and down his back. He had no idea what the mark was, but he felt the spread of magic forever etched into his skin.

Another oral exam, huh?' Peter said. 'Shut up, Peter,' said Valentine. 'You should relax and enjoy it,' said Peter. 'It could be worse.' 'I don't know how.' 'It could be an anal exam.

Antipatične su mi bile gotovo sve žene, a osobito mlade i zgodne. Uvijek su žene, a iznad svega mlađe žene, bile najzadrtije pristaše Partije, najlakše su gutale servirane parole, bile su dobrovoljne doušnice i prokazivačice krivovjerja.

Any Earth Alliance military personnel who, whether through affirmative acts or by inaction, assist these seditionists are guilty of treason and will be held accountable. To all present military personnel: you have five minutes to respond accordingly.” She chuckled. “Bet more than one scuffle just broke out on board those ships.” “Any second thoughts?” Her head shook tersely. “We’re all traitors now.” “It’s not traitorous to want to be free.