Quotes about scifi

Someone once told me that when you die every deed you ever committed, whether on behalf of good or bad is represented in the form of pebbles. Black ones for every deed done in the name of evil, white ones for every act of good. The pebbles are weighed upon a great scale, and if the white stones outweigh the black then your soul is granted peace.”He opens one bleary eye. “What’s the punishment for too many black acts?”“There is no worse punishment than standing on the threshold of heaven alone.

The first thing I understand is pain.

She would rather remain silent, but her voice is no longer something to fear. It’s strong. Powerful. A weapon of emotions.

May your song guide you home.

The Imagination of the Mind is the Treasury that although liable to theft, never ceases to grow.

Stop tormenting Derian.”“Me?” Edgar gaped at her with a clearly fake look of innocence.“Yes, you.”“And what about you? When will you stop tormenting him?” Edgar moved past the young queen to approach the unmoving captain. He circled the man as though he were checking out a statue on display “I’m not tormenting him; why would you say that?”“You have the poor guy believing you actually intend to marry him.” Edgar stopped to fix the captain’s collar, raising it up high and stiff around his

Nowhere on Earth was stupidity prized anymore.

You win the Game,” Vitas says. His features obscured under the long black robe, regal-like modesty against our animalistic near nudity.― Ant Ryan, Celestial Spheres

I mind-melded the details trapped inside my head since it felt easier than talking, which surprised me. Jadan gave a look like I should mind my own business and let Kristin enjoy her own destiny. Obviously Jadan was big on all the free will stuff.

I couldn't shake Zander's beady red eyes or the noise of his pounding wings behind us. His hot breath and foul stench reached for us, but couldn't catch us as we soared above liquid green fields in the Realm Beyond.

Oh get over it Cecilia! You are no longer human. Such decorum doesn’t exist amongst our kind

The future will be different from how they have told us

Adapt or die. It was savagely simple." -- CelesteALL LIGHT WILL FALL

The world of a cat is unlike any other. What is seen through their eyes cannot be understood by anyone besides another cat. Their world is filled with secrets and adventures that are always present and forever changing. To look at the world as a cat is to look through the veil of reality.

I don't understand humans." Caradoc shook his head. "It takes their brightest minds decades to plan an unmanned voyage to the nearest planet, which can take a year to travel each way. Yet they expect there to be aliens travelling distances it takes light decades to reach us, just for a weekend of bum fun with a total stranger without asking their permission, before dropping them off where they found them. They're just dying to believe the weirdest, least plausible things possible.

Assassination is an art, milord. And I am the city's most accomplished artist.

It's a limitless new world, and we are only just beginning to explore it.

I remember my father, who had served in Vietnam, once talking to me about how real courage is when you're scared out of your mind but you do what you have to do anyway. I didn't feel very courageous at the moment. I felt like a small mouse in the mouth of a lion.

We lied to ourselves thinking in our minds we knew everything. We were deceived in believing that youthful enthusiasm could replace wizened maturity.

They weren't people that liked change. They were the kind of people that would have tied change to a chair with dental floss if they could in order to avoid it. They were the type of people who desired to live in their virtual bubbles and grew to resent anyone that challenged that world.

I looked up at the wall. My bachelor's degree had been in History. Films like Back to the Future and Quantum Leap had been some of my favorite programs. Could time travel really be possible? This seemed too unreal.

I could smell death in the air and I knew it was mine. I could see the world spinning around me and I could sense the blows being thrust into my body. I blacked out.

Science Fiction: Any scientific acclaim that omits God.

We all know interspecies romance is weird.

The story so far:In the beginning the Universe was created.This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

Bite me." -Lieutenant Eve Dallas, from any of the In Death books.

Gabrielle chuckled, her dark eyes twinkling. “So he’s been after you, has he? Poor Etta, pursued by a sun priest offering to pleasure—” “Every nook and cranny,” Marietta interrupted dryly and Gabrielle tipped her head back with a throaty laugh.

She paused and saw him tense in expectation. He wouldn’t like to hear this, but better from her than one of the others. “You aren’t the only pilot I have in my service. And you aren’t the only person with a dark past, though the illegal things that you did, you were forced to do by the Core. But I will tell you what I’ve told the others. This is your last chance. You screw up with me and you get shipped up river. I don’t offer second chances—I offer last chances.”Nope, he didn’t like it. She saw

She feels a little sad. Is she sad? Helen considers an alternative: She is dehydrated.

And," my dad concluded, calming down a little, "all our dignity consists in just that. I mean, man's little and can't fill time and space, but he sure can make use of the brain God gave him.

It's very difficult for a black man to get out of South-Central Los Angeles, and get out civilized....The only men I know who have escaped, all began reading Robert Heinlein at age ten.

He had them as spellbound as a room full of Ewoks listening to C-3PO.

I think we have different value systems." —Arthur"Well mine's better." —Ford

The problem is, or rather one of the problems, for there are many, a sizeable proportion of which are continually clogging up the civil, commercial, and criminal courts in all areas of the Galaxy, and especially, where possible, the more corrupt ones, this.The previous sentence makes sense. That is not the problem.This is:Change.Read it through again and you'll get it.

Life seemed ideal to him right then, and he was happy for the first time in a long time, and it felt like the sun was shining from his heart." - from the novel Brainjob by David Sloma.

What use was time to those who'd soon achieve Digital Immortality?

Science is the desperate effort to catch up with the 13.8 billion year-old facts (give or take an eon or two).

Science is about the desperate effort to catch up with the 13.7 billion year-old facts (give or take an eon or two).

Science is no longer fiction,but Reality may become one.

These scars that we have... they don't go away. They only fade with time, but they're still hauntingly there.

It was strange to us that none of these three victims made any attempt to resist the attack. Indeed, not one inhabitant in any of these worlds considered for a moment the possibility of resistance. In every case the attitude to disaster seemed to express itself in such terms as these:"To retaliate would be to wound our communal spirit beyond cure. We choose rather to die. The theme of spirit that we have created must inevitably be broken short, whether by the ruthlessness of the invader or by ou

He relaxed into the dirt, it was all right, he was infantry and the dirt was home. He felt warm liquid all over his left thigh and wondered if he’d peed himself, it didn’t matter, none of it mattered, the stars were out in the blackness overhead and that was where he was going.

You help us, they’ll lock you up for the rest of your life.

On the inner side of the aquarium of reality, beliefs define the area of the prison.

It seemed to her that living without control of your own will was hardly a step above not living at all.

To try is to invite uncertainty. Where confidence goes, success usually follows.

To try is to accept the possibility of failure. Simply do.

It hurts,” Summer cries, head shaking back and forth. “Please, make it stop.” Sweat beads on her forehead.“What hurts?” Cameron asks.“My eyes.”Summer’s eyes open. Everyone gasps. They’re no longer blue; they appear bionic, like a circuit board’s inside her eyes. Panicked now, Summer reaches for her face. “What is it? What’s wrong?

Isn’t antimatter what fuels the U.S.S.Enterprise?

Seems a lot of men never saw one such as me. A girl what could keep up and fight and ride and curse with the best of them. A girl what ain’t trapped in some dress or some house or some bed. A girl what ain’t waiting on some man to do what she ought to her own damn self.

Where there is great love there is great harmony of thought.

Freedom is a state of mind.

Can you even have human nature if you don’t have the capacity to feel?” I ask. “Do you mean on some kind of existentialist ‘what are we if not the things we feel’ kind of way?” I don’t know what he means by existentialist. I say as much. He laughs. I entertain the idea of stabbing him for several minutes.

Games are never over because you think them so! Which is why I like you. Are you doing what you want to do...or are you simply another piece of a darkened puzzle? Your own actions predetermined by powers higher than yourself?

Dwell in the past, worry about the future and find misery in the present.

And in the silence what followed, I reckon our eyes had some long conversation our mouths could’ve never talked through. Some long, looking talk about things gone and long since said. About cries out in the night and some long ago tangling of limbs. And about them betrayals done time and time again—by both of us—what led to me pointing the Green Man’s rifle at the man what once loved me under the Green Man’s stars.

Maybe I’d lost something. Maybe I’d lost a lot—more, even, than I could suffer—but I still had my own self. And lonesome as I might be, wasn’t no force on Earth or from above what could make me less.

But wasn’t time for what was. Was time to settle up the future.

Feeling extremely foolish, the acting representative of Homo sapiens watched his First Contact stride away across the Raman plain, totally indifferent to his presence.

Slowly, Jimmy held up his outstretched hands. Men had been arguing for two hundred years about this gesture; would every creature, everywhere in the universe, interpret this as "See--no weapons"? But no one could think of anything better.

The Chairman glared across three hundred and eighty thousand kilometers of space at Conrad Taylor, who reluctantly subsided, like a volcano biding its time.

He stood on the ice, his teeth chattering in the cold, a cold that seemed to come not from the lake water or icy wind, but from a direct transmission from outer space.

It's as if the railroad were looming on the horizon, and the most visionary thing the futurists of the day can think of to say about it is that these iron horses will have a disastrous effect on the hardworking manufacturers of oat-bags for horses.

Science fiction at its best should be crazy and dangerous, not sane and safe.

Uh-oh, big boy. Your blood is in the water and the sharks are circling. Must be feeding time."--Mea Brin, The Huntress

In fighting those who serve devils one always his this on one's side; their Masters hate them as much as they hate us. The moment we disable the human pawns enough to make them useless to Hell, their own Masters finish the work for us. they break their tools.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

I appreciate your thinking on me, marshal, but ain’t no trouble of his what ain’t trouble of mine, too.

I’m not bipolar, I’ve just had a bipolar life foisted upon me.

There's just one rule, just one basic law that everyone lives under : take control or be controlled.

SciFi: When there's a serious problem and everyone decides to solve it sensibly.

The Tyr had tried. It had really tried. It must have gone over every element of human psychology, tried desperately to understand the nature of human aesthetic sense … and then failed, miserably, in every regard.

Prediction is the business of prophets, clairvoyants, and futurologists. It is not the business of novelists. A novelist’s business is lying. The weather bureau will tell you what next Tuesday will be like, and the Rand Corporation will tell you what the twenty-first century will be like. I don’t recommend that you turn to the writers of fiction for such information. It’s none of their business. All they’re trying to do is tell you what they’re like, and what you’re like -- what’s going on -- wh

what I like and what I need’s two different things.

And if revenge was all I had, then I was goddamned if it wouldn’t be enough.

Promises are priceless, and a kiss is a kind of promise, too.

The aftermath of bearing shackles is an exquisite devastation, fraught with the ravages of survival. Even though one is no longer held captive—be that from a person, a government, or one’s inner self—the scars are deeply engraved into one’s psyche, and there’s no remedy for the soul. Many have the misconception that freedom equals happiness forever and ever.That’s a wicked delusion.

Terror builds inside him. The reality that tonight will be his last leaves a sour taste in his mouth. The Tainted will eat him, or on a more terrifying note—if that’s even possible—maybe turn him into one of them. He’d rather die. But first, he’ll take as many of those bastards out as he can. He throws his pack into the throng and jerks the blade from his belt. With a thudding heart, he slices through them. Blood arcs over him, onto him.

Slowly, he lifts the flashlight. Her shorts are torn and frayed, her shirt ripped from chest to naval, exposing her black bra and dirty stomach. And then he raises the light so it reflects off her face, off the crimson tears streaming from the girl’s eyes. Her boney hands fly up to protect her face, and her head tilts sharply as she hisses.

Any story told is a lie cunningly told to hide the real world from the poor bastards who live in it.

You really need to trade in that End Days psychology, Stephanie, for some silver-lining thinking,” Jim said airily. “Not every second of every day is a friggin’ crisis. Besides, be careful what you wish for.” He paused to hand her a book, The Dark Side of the Light Chasers. “Says here, the more psychic energy you invest in gloom and doom, the more likely you are to make it happen. The universe is very sensitive to these things, picks up on all those thought impressions, and the next thing you kn

The lights flickered, the pain went away, and her mother was holding her, singing ‘Sleep sweet sleep’. (The Children of Ankh series) Kim Cormack

Everytime he looked at her she felt brighter inside, and she yearned to keep his attention, to hold his gaze.

Solutions sometimes present themselves after a reset.

For such a worldly, surly bastard, Bas had always been incredibly innocent. Always seen the best in people.

All the sounds of man, the bleating of sheep, the cries of birds, the hum of insects, the stir that makes the background of our lives - all that was over.

To read is to live inside a new world...

A kind of childlike purity to her repose that made the thought of kissing her seem vile.

If people could fall apart, why couldn't they fall back together?

Ain’t nothing scarier than someone with nothing.

The terrible price of living, ain’t it? To live through others dying?

not knowing what I needed to do or where I needed to go, I knew all the same that I was going in the right direction.

Don’t matter none how bad it gets sometimes. You can always turn this shit around.

What’s with savage humans always wanting to cannibalize us?” Jaden asks as she runs past Summer to check for any more of the Tainted around the corner.“They want to suck your blood,” Rob says in a Romanian accent.Jaden snorts. Too bad humor won’t help them out of this mess.

He glared at Lucian in the manner of birds, first peering through one eye and then turning his head to peer through the other, apparently finding both views equally loathsome.

Life involves a lot of unknowns.

My tears had unexpectedly become real.

I know who I am, and I'm being true to myself.

You'd be surprised what I can do with a butter knife.