Best 1974 quotes in «science fiction quotes» category

On your mark!" I looked up at the starry night. "Get set!" I smiled at the night, the stars and everybody at the stadium.

Özetlersek: İyi bilinen bir gerçektir ki, halkı yönetmeyi en çok isteyenler, ipso facto, bu işi yapmaya en az uygun olanlardır. Özeti özetleyecek olursak: kendisinin Başkan yapılmasını sağlayabilecek kişilerin bu işi yapmasına hiçbir surette izin verilmemesi gerekir. Özetin özetinin özeti: Halk bir problemdir.

Our world must be hell, then. It must be the hell of some other place where all of us committed atrocious sins of some sort, and now we’re stuck here until we die and either come back or are whisked off to some other hell. It couldn’t be worse than this one, though.

Paranormal phenomena are only a collection of abilities that challenge known science.Physical laws don’t explained them. You have to go beyond the limits of traditional categories to make any sense of them. Beau Walker--The SHIVA Syndrome

Para conservar la alegría de la infancia tendrías que morir siendo niño, o vivir como tal, sin convertirte nunca en hombre, sin crecde jamás.

Paulo noticed the creature’s swift and frantic breathing and the drop of red staining the ground beneath, but above all he saw the bird’s uppermost eye, wide open and fixed on his. That single eye reflected panic and despair on a scale he had never before witnessed. It was both tiny and enormous, and with every passing moment it seemed to expand, encompassing the trees, the landscape, the sky. That look stilled the wind and darkened the day and, at a glance, transformed a moment of ecstasy into a bottomless pit of guilt." From "The Algorithm of Power", Part 3: The Paulo Fontana Story

Peonies are beautiful perennials. A classic, really. Every garden should have them. They're dependable, have a timeless, elegant beauty and will bloom with very little attention." He was silent for a moment while she switched branches and he followed. "Like you

path is only a name for a place where you find yourself. Where you're going on it is only a story. Where you've been on it is only another. Some of the stories are pleasant ones; some are not. That's dark and light.

People cheer on tyrants for fear of becoming targets.

Our already disengaged voters are being fed less and less real information and are being robbed of the fabulously entertaining spectacle that is our government.

People didn’t love all of this when they still had it. If you love something, you do what’s best for it. You don’t destroy it.

People feared what they did not understand, and they without a doubt did not understand her. Those who believed they did least of all. She was something new.

[P]eople only make decisions based on what they know. You can have everyone in the country vote freely and democratically and still come up with the wrong answer - if the information they base that decision on is wrong. People don't want the truth [when] it is complicated. They don't want to spend years debating an issue. They want it homogenized, sanitized, and above all, simplified into terms they can understand...Governments are often criticized for moving slowly, but that deliberateness, it turns out, is their strength. They take time to think through complex problems before they act. People, however, are different. People react first from the gut and then from the head...give that knee-jerk reflex real power to make its overwhelming will known as a national mandate instantly and you can cause a political riot. Combine these sins - simplification of information and instant, visceral democratic mandates - and you lose the ability to cool down. There is no longer deliberation time between events that may or may not be true and our reaction to them. Policy becomes instinct rather than thought.

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.

People say, 'Time heals all wounds.' That may be true, but relocating to an alternate reality can sure help too." -Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 1941

People can always say I don't look impressive enough, but they can't argue over how strong I am once I punch them in the face.

People shouldn’t look that scared of anything. There shouldn’t be things in the world capable of doing that to someone. The trouble is, I know exactly the kind of thing that could make someone that scared. I’ve seen them. I’ve been chased by them.", Celestra Caine in FADE by Kailin Gow

People write books because of injustices.

People were so often mean that when they weren’t, there was a tendency to bestow sainthood upon them. Aster did not reward common decency with her affection.

People who couldn't imagine themselves capable of evil were at a major disadvantage in dealing with people who didn't need to imagine, because they already were. She'd said it was always a mistake, to believe those people were different, special, infected with something that was inhuman, subhuman, fundamentally other. Which reminded her of what her mother had said about Corbell Picket. That evil wasn't glamorous, but just the result of ordinary half-assed badness, high school badness, given enough room, however that might happen, to become its bigger self. Bigger, with more horrible results, but never more than the cumulative weight of ordinary human baseness.

Perfection all the time would drive them mad. For every perfect little town, there's something ugly underneath. No dream without the nightmare.

Perhaps he found it strange being accompanied by a Chinese-Nigerian arms trafficking pirate, but the Irish priest had just followed me silently on board the covert government transport.

Perhaps it started as a whisper in some white wilderness ... ' Jaycee's voice. The pain and the consciousness flooded back as the semantic trigger threw off the protective blackout. The mongol's eyes widened, and a vicious thrust to the solar plexus made Bron scream with what little breath he still retained. ' ... a broken body, cradled in cold, crying futility unto a futile wind.' 'Jaycee, for God's sake stop it! Let me go.' He made no attempt at subvocalizing. It was as much as he could do to form the words at all. She was playing with him, deliberately using the trigger to keep him conscious so that his awareness of the torment would continue. Again and again the blows fell savagely. ' ... the mind mazed not by the searing steel, the nibbling nerve ... ' 'Jaycee, in the name of pity!' He no longer cared whether he lived or died. All he wanted was release from the scientific and merciless battering which his body was taking. ' ... some maimed martyr, crazed upon the cross, held up his head and cried unto the heavens: LORD, WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME?

Perhaps friendship doesn't divert sound judgment.

Perhaps the god who had made the Cat People intended them as a joke. They had schools, but no education; politicians but no government; people, but no personal integrity; faces, but no concept of face. One had to admit that their god had gone a little too far with his little joke.

Personally, I’d like to see the word genre taken out back and shot, a bullet in the back of its head, if it’s going to be so overloaded with meanings it’s just gibberish skewed to self-serving doublethink.

Perhaps it's the alien equivalent of a discarded tomato can. Does a beetle know why it can enter the can only from one end as it lies across the trail to the beetle's burrow? Does the beetle understand why it is harder to climb to the left or right, inside the can, than it is to follow a straight line? Would the beetle be a fool to assume the human race put the can there to torment it — or an egomaniac to believe the can was manufactured only to mystify it? It would be best for the beetle to study the can in terms of the can's logic, to the limit of the beetle's ability. In that way, at least, the beetle can proceed intelligently. It may even grasp some hint of the can's maker. Any other approach is either folly or madness.

Perhaps love doesn't divert sound judgment.

Power is an ill-tempered and treacherous mistress. She corrupts even the incorruptible. If you value your freedoms you will have to bind her and keep her from your lands and leaders, because she will seize their minds and seduce their consciences until they give in to her insatiable appetite.

Powell’s face appeared on screen. “It’s true, the doomsday crowd is a little crazy,” she said, looking thoughtful. “But that doesn’t mean they’re wrong.

Probablemente no haya en nuestra vida un instante más terrible que aquel en que uno descubre que su padre es un hombre... hecho de carne humana.

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.

Perversos y retorcidos son los caminos de la mente humana- recitó Jane-. Pinocho fue un idiota intentando convertirse en un niño de verdad. Estaba mucho mejor con su cabeza de madera.

Rachel Henson stood facing him, immaculate in her uniform and ready for duty as always. She looked as though she had spent her whole life preparing for this very moment - she always did.

Precisely how are we supposed to win a war if we're not allowed to, you know, actually shoot anyone? --From SCAPEGOATS: The Goat Protocols

Quote from Frontiers: "Regardless of what happened, it was definitely going to be an exciting time for everyone, the day humanity first reached out to touch the stars.

Raw, gentle, and easy, it mizzled out of the high air, a special elixir, tasting of spells and stars and air, carrying a peppery dust in it, and moving like a rare light sherry on his tongue. Rain.

Rams wrapped in thermogene beget no lambs.

Ransolm gave her his most winning smile. It was, he knew, a good one, highly effective on most women and more than a few men. Although he was no womanizer, he understood very well how to be charming when necessary.

Reaching out, I grab his hand and intertwine my fingers with his. And I move into his space until we're not even an inch from each other. Laying my forehead on his chest, I take a deep breath and feel his whole body relax, as if tension is rolling off his body in waves. I was always the kid who loved the smell of gasoline. His free hand comes up, and his fingers slip through my hair before his hand settles between my shoulder blades. "Ben," I say into his shirt. "Janelle," he whispers back, and I can feel his mouth against my hair. I can feel him smile.

Reality is a crutch for people who can't handle science fiction.

Reading wasn't an attempt to educate myself. It was my chief escape from a world that, although gorgeous in landscape and rich with mountain culture, didn't provide what I needed—the promise of adventure, a life beyond the perimeter of hills. I often fantasized that I'd been adopted and had mysterious powers such as flying or teleportation. Books offered the promise of a world in which misfits like me could flourish. Within the pages of a novel, I was unafraid: of my father, of dogs, snakes, and the bully across the creek; of older boys who drove hot rods close enough to make me jump in the ditch; of armed men parked near the bootlegger.

Reality is but several levels of consciousness that can be accepted or dismissed depending on what one perceives.

Red, orange and green geometric designs painted its body as well as the flimsy collar around its neck. The creature flicked its tail and blinked its deep-set eyes, apparently oblivious to their presence. "That's a yraglian lizard," Deven whispered. "We need to stay back. They smell really bad if you upset them. I mean, really, really bad." Dirck nodded, unsurprised that the first native creature he encountered on Cyraria represented it so well.

Red, orange and green geometric designs painted its body as well as the flimsy collar around its neck. The creature flicked its tail and blinked its deep-set eyes, apparently oblivious to their presence. "That's a yraglian lizards," Deven whispered. "We need to stay back. They smell really bad if you upset them. I mean, really, really bad." Dirck nodded, unsurprised that the first native creature he encountered on Cyraria represented it so well.

Regrets, it seems, are easy to realise when you're dying.

Reality is highly overrated.

Reality is shaped by the forces that destroy it.

Researchers still don’t know what’s involved in Shifting. Have you heard of dark matter?’ ‘I know the name but not what it is.’ ‘It’s something like another dimension all around us. We can’t see it or touch it, but there’s five times more of it than what we call our world. It isn’t made of atoms in the way that we are. It’s at the edge of our understanding of the universe. It’s like black holes – you can’t view them, but you know they’re there because of the way things act when they’re in close proximity to one. It’s the same with dark matter. We think teleportation involves a dimensional shift.’ Jackie (J M) Johnson, Starbirth Assignment Shifter

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