Science Fiction Quotes - Page 26

In the distance Richard could see the skyscrapers of Los Angeles rising out of the ocean; barnacle crusted concrete and steel emerging from crashing waves. Once a symbol of economic might, they were now a macabre monument to the mortality of man.

Surprised huh, thought you had me back in prison didn’t you? To answer your question what keeps me alive is my drive, my drive to kill you! I have nothing, but hate for you and your family. It will be my pleasure taking you out. I don’t care about power, plutonium or even being rich. None of that matters to me. I only care about taking you out. Even if I die I want to be the one who is called the killer of Angel Medina! There’s no where for you to go. Now we will truly see who is better! Come on put up you hands and prepare for your final battle of your life! - Orlando from Framed: The Second Book of the Thousand Years War

If privacy had a gravestone it might read: 'Don't Worry. This Was for Your Own Good.

There's about six original people in the world. The rest of everybody else are copycats. When it comes to religion and politics, ninety percent of people do what their parents did and think they made up their minds for themselves. They watch the news to see what the latest trends are.

I think Dr. Willis McNelly at the California State University at Fullerton put it best when he said that the true protagonist of an sf story or novel is an idea and not a person. If it is *good* sf the idea is new, it is stimulating, and, probably most important of all, it sets off a chain-reaction of ramification-ideas in the mind of the reader; it so-to-speak unlocks the reader’s mind so that the mind, like the author’s, begins to create. Thus sf is creative and itinspires creativity, which mainstream fiction by-and-large does not do. We who read sf (I am speaking as a reader now, not a writer) read it because we love to experience this chain-reaction of ideas being set off in our minds by something we read, something with a new idea in it; hence the very best since fiction ultimately winds up being a collaboration between author and reader, in which both create and enjoy doing it: joy is the essential and final ingredient of science fiction, the joy of discovery of newness.

Fish and visitors stink after three days.

It suddenly occurred to me just how absurd this scene was: a guy wearing a suit of armor, standing next to an undead king, both hunched over the controls of a classic arcade game. It was the sort of surreal image you'd expect to see on the cover of an old issue of Heavy Metal or Dragon magazine.

Jane woke, stretched, and decided to kill herself. If she hadn’t found a reason to live by the end of the day she would jump from the rig. It felt good to have a plan.

Knowledge is like an endless resource; a well of water that satisfies the innate thirst of the growing human soul. Therefore never stop learning... because the day you do, you will also stop maturing.

She still thought Sebastian planned to leave her. She had no idea he was contemplating keeping her for

It helps if you don’t think of them as human. More than one officer has called this job pest control.

Hey, when you love a woman, and when she’s this crazy in love with you, you’ve got to do whatever she says, man.

This girl holds my heart in her hand and she's squishing it to nothing with her confession.

When they would spar, Calic held nothing back, as if he possessed a deep rage clawing for release. He demonstrated a ferocity Sebastian had never seen the likes of. Sebastian had the same rage bubbling inside him. However, he was able to hone it differently by focusing on the survival of his crew

Xander, there are two certainties in life--death and truth. They will both pursue you to your grave. There is no escaping them. But we run from them anyway in hopes that somehow we can slip by unnoticed. In the end, one or both of them catch up. Running doesn't solve anything.

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.

She gazed at the bay of wrecked shuttles in dismay. The last of her adrenaline seeped away at the sight of the widespread destruction.It occurred to her then, for perhaps the first time in this long nightmare, that she was going to die.

I feel as if I've gone past the lukewarm stage that Jesus talked about in the book of Revelations and am slowly dwindling on cold. Deep down I want to change, but I don't know how. I'm the pastor. I'm supposed to know how. I hide my frustration with an obsession for Ohio State football and hours at the I Sold It on eBay internet cafe around the corner from the church.

A writer is very much like the captain on a star ship facing the unknown. When you face the blank page and you have no idea where you're going. It can be terrifying, but it can also be the adventure of a lifetime.

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.

Love isn't just wanting another person the way you want to own an object you see in a store. That's just desire. You want to have it around, take it home and set it up somewhere in the apartment like a lamp.

Hahaha! You fools really thought you were gonna walk in here and I would show myself like that. No, you’re mistaken. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. You have a long road until you get to me and like I said, Mr. Angel, I’m the last person you’ll want to see! In fact, if you’re playing attention, you have met me already! However, I’ll leave it to my minions to take care of all of you! - Evil One from Revenge of the Gloobas

Honor is for the living. Dead is dead.

When we decided to have Julie, I couldn’t carry her. We sat down and the hard numbers stared back at us. I made twice as much as Fern. We wouldn’t have been able to feed ourselves, let alone another mouth, if I’d been the one to hold her. And so we both went for the operation, and they took eggs from the two of us and made them one. And then I squeezed Fern’s hand when she went into the theatre, and when she came out again they’d put it inside her. And sheltered by her body, the one cell that was us divided and became two, and then three, and then four hundred million, and then they divided into parts. Lungs, heart, brain, mouth. And finally, when she was ready, Julie divided from Fern and there were three of us.

She is mad, and I am sane. To speak to her, even the first word, would be an acknowledgement and an acceptance of her madness, and from there I would have no choice but to follow her down the hole until both of us would be here alone in this ship among the clouds, endlessly circling the earth, our needs carefully ministered to by mechanical men, howling ourselves hoarse and counting off the ticks of the clock before the moon falls out of the sky.

One moment I was sitting in your ship feeling very depressed, and the next moment I was standing here feeling utterly miserable. An Improbability Field I expect.

Maligned –powerfully-drawn characters acting out a disturbing view of our future.” -David Compton, New York Times Best-Selling author

All of life is a test.

Pride was the belt you used to hold your pants up when you had no pants.

In my own life many bad things was done to me, and that is how I know that when it happens sometimes you think something is wrong with you. Whoever did those things to you? It's them it's wrong with. It's not your fault.

I shot the first planet this afternoon.

Humans are capable of so much more. Power mongers like you have stripped away what is most valuable to us, the importance of our heritage and family values. We have been robbed of this, blinded by your authority, while you encourage us to burry ourselves in debt and rely on our corrupt governments. Men and women around the world have been forced to work long hours to keep up with inflated debts, all the while abandoning the families they struggle to support. History repeats, and repeats. It’s time to break the cycle and start anew.

To write a novel is to dream while awake, then express the dream to the reader in an absorbing way. The road leading from the writer's inner world to the readers' is paved with prose.

She held out her hands, palms up, the white fingers lightly spread, and with a barely audible click, ten double-edged, four-centimeter scalpel blades slid from their housings beneath the burgundy nails.She smiled. The blades slowly withdrew.

Did Bach ever eatpancakes at midnight?

Marla poked Duncan. He stepped forward. "Maybe I can help."Atomic Jack looked at him., his eyes glowed a sickening shade of radioactive orange. "I really don't see how." He slipped off his glove and his hand burst into small flames. The guy didn't yell though, or make out like he was in pain. He just grinned and showed a mouthful of orange teeth.

Science fiction is the most important literature in the history of the world, because it's the history of ideas, the history of our civilization birthing itself. ...Science fiction is central to everything we've ever done, and people who make fun of science fiction writers don't know what they're talking about.

Wit had conquered science by laughing it out of court.

I think they are a better race than humans ever were.

It is practical, but that doesn't mean it's right.

There are always possibilities.

I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid I'll never get a chance to live!

Science Fiction is a safe, fertile arena in which to rehearse the potential scientific facts of tomorrow

Then the Skopamish showed up. Their chests heaving, rotting eyes like dull raisins in their skulls. Their eyes found mine like a witching wand seeking water.

The only thing what happens in the Houses of Parliament is the debate about foxes, badgers and moles

When I look back now, I realize what a trial I must have been to my friends and relatives. It was one frenzy after one elation after one enthusiasm after one hysteria after another. I was always yelling and running somewhere, because I was afraid life was going to be over that very afternoon.

There was no sign of any life, just erratic hints of a faded sun peeking down with sorrow on the dead world it once nourished.

. . . there was no possible way to deny that this girl probably felt emotions much deeper than most other people. If anyone was human, she was.

... but remember that I shall love your sorrow...

In the empty expanses of space, the wandering traders need men like myself to care for the spiritual side of a life so given over to commerce, and worldly pursuits.

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

Better world's when we change by simulating the technology NOT the Homo sapiens

It was a subversive notion, the idea that she was free. Free to choose where to go and what to do with her time.

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.

Which came first, the mind or the idea of the mind? Have you never wondered? They arrived together. The mind is an idea.

Even in forgetting there is an aspect of recollection, a faded few moments of wispy consciousness clung like webs in high-vaulted chambers, moving ever so lightly with the draft.

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.tHe 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.

We’re all the same. We all have the means to save ourselves and carry ourselves home.

The death takes a moment and life lasts forever. Why spend eternity worried about a singularity?

You people do not have to live like this!" the man pleaded. "We are humans, made in the image of God. No machine has the right to order us around." The man reached inside his box, no bigger than a foot square, and took out a small black book. "Here is the truth. Read it!"Before anyone could act, one of the Sentries aimed its red eye at the babbling man, and shot out a deadly energy ray. With a final shout of defiance, the man fell to the ground, dead. The contents of his container spilling out onto the spaceport's floor. Marcellus looked down at the items, so precious to the man: they were copies of The Koran and The Bible.