Best 1974 quotes in «science fiction quotes» category

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    Crap, make one, two really bad decisions in your life, and you spend the rest of it doubting everything.

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    ... crowding together to see something which would ease the boredom of perfection and time.

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    Dad takes a step back, one hand still on my shoulder, and reaches into his pocket. He draws out a little blue capsule, and I feel every molecule in my body screaming to run. Dad must catch the panic in my eyes - he squeezes my shoulder and holds out the capsule. "Cas, it's fine. It's going to be fine. This is just in case." Just in case. Just in case the worst happens. The ship falls. Durga fails, I fail, and the knowledge I carry as a Reckoner trainer must be disposed of. That information can't fall into the wrong hands, into the hands of people who will do anything to take down our beasts. So this little capsule holds the pill that will kill me if it comes to that. "It's waterproof," Dad continues, pressing it into my hand. "The pocket on the collar of your wetsuit, keep it there. It has to stay with you at all times." It won't happen on this voyage. It's such a basic mission, gift-wrapped to be easy enough for me to handle on my own. But even holding the pill fills me with revulsion. On all my training voyages, I've never had to carry one of these capsules. That burden only goes to full-time trainers. "Cas." Dad tilts my chin up, ripping my gaze from the pull. "You were born to do this. I promise you, you'll forget you even have it." I suppose he ought to know - he's been carrying one for two decades. It's just a right of passage, I tell myself, and throw my arms around his neck once more.

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    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.

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    Dale’s face is older. Just a little. Around the eyes and mouth. The skin of his neck. The back of his hands. Maybe not, he thinks, turning on the faucet, letting the water grow warm then hot. He begins shaving his lubricated chin and cheeks. Chrysalis hibernation slows things down, but it doesn't stop them, not all together, and he finds himself to currently resemble something between a derelict and a college student, neither one ringing particularly desirable in his present mood.

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    Daniel, I was asked of a budding author, how do you know if your story is on track? My answer: I start by knowing my intention, my target. Then, with purpose, I write the scene that unfolds before me, as faithfully as is human. - Daniel LaMonte

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    Darkness had no effect upon my fancy, and a churchyard was to me merely the receptacle of bodies deprived of life, which, from being the seat of beauty and strength, had become food for the worm.

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    dasar hujan datang tak dirindukan

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    Dammit, Gage. What the hell were you thinking?” “I wasn’t,” he shouts. “I was upset she wanted to stay, and I lost it.” Ethan scoffs. “Yeah, you did.” “I’m an idiot.” “Yeah, you are.” “Shut up.

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    Dawn wore a pink dress and crept across the land like a timid girl. Her sister Morning followed, dressed in blue, the sun a dazzling locket on her breast.

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    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.

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    Dear, dear Raka. You never fail to disappoint.

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    Death and his scythe do not come. No sweeping black capes or ethereal escapes. There’s no pearly gate, no prisms of colors as his soul slips away. The stillness is cold steel. The silence is empty with no memory to mend it.

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    Dear Time, You're so beautiful when You stand still.

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    Dear Sirs," Flick began before loudly inhaling, "On account of there being no heat down here in account of the being nö electricity on account of the brand-new energy rations so thoughtfully and nobly and honorably imposed on the steerage decks by Sovereign Nicolaeus on account of the blackouts - Aster fell prey to a brief fit of hypothermia-induced delirium de spoke against you in her maddery. She's healed up now so you don't have to worry about it happening again.

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    Death can’t be cheated, but there are endless ways that life can be lived.

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    Death. Life. They are in the air, the water, the earth, and the fire that surround us. They co-mingle like a dance of weeping and rejoicing. The joy and pain become one. We are of a dualistic nature." ---Jennifer Mills

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    Death whispers your name to me.

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    Daisies are perennials; they always grow back.

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    Deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew they were probably watching. They watched everything, after all. Let them watch. Let them see what it meant to be human. To live. Let them see what it meant to love, and be loved in return.

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    Demigoddesses do NOT take public transportation. I'd rather die first.

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    Despite centuries of English literature, the most famous split infinitive in all of history comes from Star Trek.

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    Despite its ferocious name, or perhaps because of it, it was the head of the pack of six bars in town. The sweet smell of cider and dank cigarette smoke wafted up her nostrils. Better than Lucy’s sweaty armpits at Emberswick Bar & Grill.

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    Did Bach ever eat pancakes at midnight?

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    Degree of conformance to our other beliefs. One of our criteria for the assessment of explanations is coherence with our existing beliefs.

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

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    Doesn’t he look just like a ring wraith?” she said thoughtfully. “Are you kidding?” replied Cathy, “I most certainly won't be carol singing at your door this Christmas if you've got one of those ugly things hanging on it!” “No, from Lord of the Rings,” said Sue impatiently. “I'm sorry,” snorted Cathy, “I don't watch pornographic material." “Have you never read a book?!” Sue snapped. “It's about a small man who travels through dangerous lands to drop a ring into a volcano, it's a classic.” “Does sound like a small man,” she replied, “can't even face his marriage problems full on.

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    Despite what your science fiction writers dream, we simply don't have the technology

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    …Do not discount the value of luck. It is a hidden and unseen attribute in a man that will save him when nothing else can— learn to embrace it.

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    Do not lament the suffering we have to endure to fulfill the dream but rejoice in the courage with which we will face it.

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    Do not stare directly into his eyes!” she warned, in an accent I couldn’t place. “Why not?” I said, but she was already too late. I was staring directly into his eyes too. “Because they are dreamy, and endless, and magical. And then when you learn what a terrible boy he is, your heart will turn into a black husk of doom.” I blinked off the spell of the boy’s eyes. “Wait, what?” —Nimet Simit and Willa Snap, conversing on the power of Ravenlock Sward's eyes.

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    Do normálu sa vrátime ihneď ako stanovíme čo je vlastne normálne.

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    Don’t go near that elevator—that’s just what they want us to do…trap us in a steel box and take us down to the basement!” − Raoul Duke, Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas “Please, please I don’t want my soul tethered to the Net, my mind impregnated by the Data Stream, or my body enslaved by the Grid. I am a Homo Sapiens, dammit, and I can be a Trog and live in the soup if I want to!” − Pagan Paul

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    Dina, I’m bored,” Caldenia announced. Too bad. I guaranteed her safety, not entertainment. “What about your game?” Her Grace gave me a shrug. “I’ve beaten it five times on the Deity setting. I’ve reduced Paris to ashes because Napoleon annoyed me. I’ve eradicated Gandhi. I’ve crushed George Washington. Empress Wu had potential, so I eliminated her before we even cleared Bronze Age. The Egyptians are my pawns. I dominate the planet. Oddly, I find myself mildly fascinated by Genghis Khan. A shrewd and savage warrior, possessing a certain magnetism. I left him with a single city, and I periodically make ridiculous demands that I know he can’t meet so I can watch him squirm.

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    Don't needlessly draw attention to yourself. If you're twerking on the beach, a circling pteracuda could mistake you for a wounded animal.

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    Don't go getting offended my friend, I have much worse things to say to you.-Ad'Dam, Journey from Atremes

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    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.

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    Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lost memories? Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday, since dreams play when time is askew? Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done, do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home?

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    Do we exist because others perceive our existence, or is, indeed, our own affirmation enough?

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    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.

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    Do you love me?” His voice rang flat in his own ears, deadened and weighted with the recognition there was only one chance, and a fool’s chance at that

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    Draden. Who knew there were men like him in the world? He made it exciting to wake up in the morning. She looked forward to the day. To their shared laughter. Their conversations. The intense attraction between them. Who wouldn't fall in love with him?

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    Draden was hers. The one. The only. She didn't know how she knew it, but she did know that nothing in her life was truer.

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    Eleanor had heard talk of the rebellion that existed inside the city of Constance before. Most of the information she gathered was considered an old fairy tale by the general public. There were a few stories here and there about people angered by their present living conditions, who had demanded that the center of Constance be held responsible for it. However, information was never passed between the five different sectors. Over the years the tales of the rebellion had become children’s bedtime stories, and people did not take them seriously.

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    El misterio de la vida no es problema que hay que resolver, sino una realidad que hay que experimentar.

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    El poder se basa en inflingir dolor y humillación. El poder consiste en hacer pedazos el espíritu humano y darle la forma que elijamos.

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    Elijah blinked in dazzling sunlight and took a deep breath. The sweet-pepper scent of meadow grass told him immediately where he was. Winded, he skidded to a halt as the portal spat him out. Above him stretched skies of cornflower blue, dotted with threadbare white clouds sailing over like cotton galleons on the summer breeze.

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    El universo es un bosque oscuro. Cada civilización es un cazador armado que recorre el bosque como un fantasma, apartando delicadamente las ramas que le impiden el paso, intentando moverse sin emitir sonido. Incluso respira con mucho cuidado. El cazador debe ser precavido, porque el bosque está lleno de otros cazadores secretos como él. Si da con otra forma de vida, otro cazador, un ángel, o un demonio, un infante delicado o un anciano tambaleante, un hada o un semidiós, solo tiene una opción: Abrir fuego y eliminarlo. En este bosque, el infierno son los otros. La amenaza eterna de que cualquier vida que revele su existencia será exterminada con rapidez. Esa es la imagen de las civilizaciones cósmicas. Es la explicación de la paradoja de Ferm

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    Don't just discover . . . Encounter!

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    Don't pick up hitchhikers!"- D. Adams