Robert Sheckley Quotes

It's the deep, fundamental bedrock of hypocrisy upon which religion is founded. Consider: no creature can be said to worship if it does not possess free will. Free will, however, is FREE. And just by virtue of being free, is intractable and incalculable, a truly Godlike gift, the faculty that makes a state of freedom possible. To exist in a state of freedom is a wild, strange thing, and was clearly intended as such. But what to the religions do with this? They say, "Very well, you possess free will; but now you must use your free will to enslave yourself to God and to us." The effrontery of it! God, who would not coerce a fly, is painted as a supreme slavemaster! In the fact of this, any creature with spirit must rebel, must serve God entirely of his own will and volition, or must not serve him at all, thus remaining true to himself and to the faculties God has given him.

Dead or alive, you will retain all your rights.

‘Shall we go down and have a closer look?’ Hum asked.“ ‘All right. I think we have time — wait! What day is this?’“Hum calculated silently, then said, ‘The fifth day of Luggat.’“ ‘Damn,’ Cordovir said. ‘I have to go home and kill my wife.’“ ‘It’s a few hours before sunset,’ Hum said. ‘I think you have time to do both.’“Cordovir wasn’t sure. ‘I’d hate to be late.’“ ‘Well then. You know how fast I am,’ Hum said. ‘If it gets late, I’ll hurry back and kill her myself. How about that?’“ ‘That’s very decent of you.’ Cordovir thanked the younger man and together they slithered down the steep mountainside.

He created waterfalls for her out of the morning dew, and from the colored pebbles of a meadow stream he made a necklace more beautiful than emeralds, sadder than pearls. She caught him in her net of silken hair, she carried him down, down, into deep and silent waters, past obliteration. He showed her frozen stars and molten sun; she gave him long, entwined shadows and the sound of black velvet. He reached out to her and touched moss, grass, ancient trees, iridescent rocks; her fingertips, striving upwards, brushed old planets and silver moonlight, the flash of comets and the cry of dissolving suns.

Action isn’t my forte. I’m an expert on contemplation and mild regret.