There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why. Science fiction dreams of the things that never were and asks why not? The answer to which is often "Because it might not be very wise." But, as that has never stopped humans before......
The best ending ever, for a science fiction book - or any novel, now that I think about it - was in Rendezvous With Rama. You know that you're at the end of the book and yet, there is no resolution. Then he hits you with those last six words. Better ...
[Presently, science undergraduates] do not learn to write clearly and briefly, marshalling their points in due and aesthetically satisfying order, and eliminating inessentials. They are inept at those turns of phrase or happy analogy which throw a fl...
When you can measure what you are speaking about, and express it in numbers, you know something about it, when you cannot express it in numbers, your knowledge is of a meager and unsatisfactory kind; it may be the beginning of knowledge, but you have...
He covered her mouth with his ---and she felt as if she had suddenly been enveloped in a cascade of sparks. The tingling warmth from his touch did not compare to the sensations that whirled through her as his lips moved over hers. It was as if every ...
Dorian strokes my exposed back with the tips of his fingers, sending shockwaves up and down my spine. I gasp from the contact, resisting the urge to beg him for more. He brings his face down to my neck, letting his lips brush my earlobe. “Gabriella...
Juror #8: According to the testimony, the boy looks guilty... maybe he is. I sat there in court for six days listening while the evidence built up. Everybody sounded so positive, you know, I... I began to get a peculiar feeling about this trial. I me...
Reverend Cleophus James: And now, people... And now, people... When I woke up this mornin', I heard a distubin' sound. I said When I woke up this mornin', I heard a disturbin' sound! What I heard was the jingle-jangle of a thousand lost souls! I'm ta...
Dr. Emmett Brown: [Deleted Scene, Doc Brown uses a sound fork and hits the time machine with the sound fork and frantically steps back] I knew, I knew it, I knew it. Marty McFly: Doc, do you have a 75-ohm matching transformer? Dr. Emmett Brown: What?...
And the Clave wants to meet Clarissa. You know that, Jace." "The Clave can screw itself." "Jace," Maryse said, sounding genuinely parental for a change. "Language." "The Clave wants a lot of things," Jace amended. "It shouldn't necessarily get them a...
It’s one thing if a person learns you’re a witch. It’s quite another if he learns you’re a murderer. I almost forget I’m a witch now that I know I’m a murderer—murderess, actually. Murderess sounds so much worse.
That's sounds right. Another $5,000 went to dress up the Little League park where he had played so many games. Seems like he paid off the MORTAGE on his parents' home, which wasn't that much.
"Take it easy, Jewels," Sebastian said, trying to sound playful, but worry was written all over his face. "Why can't you ever call me by my real name?" "Well, at least I know you're coherent- you're back to asking your heap of questions."' Concealed
The feeling of the wind, the sound of rushing water, the sense of sunlight breaking through the clouds, the colors of flowers as the seasons changed - everything around him felt changed, as if they had all been recast.
He kept quite for a minute or so but it felt like an hour. “That sounds like either you know a lot of diseased and ill people or they’re just ill or dead because of you.” “I know,” I said and felt like a monster.
I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
Mankind being originally equals in the order of creation, the equality could only be destroyed by some subsequent circumstance; the distinctions of rich, and poor, may in a great measure be accounted for, and that without having recourse to the harsh...
If you're going to keep the music in you, Jonah, you've got to play a little bit every day purely for pleasure. Otherwise, you'll lose the joy of it, and if you lose the joy, you won't sound good to those who know piano - or to yourself.
Her mother admonished through closed lips, the sound a mother can make mean anything from "pick up your socks" to "we are very disappointed you have murdered those orphans.
A poet is a nightingale who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds; his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why.
The sudden silence is horrifying, and it seems to catch my mother off guard. A tiny whimper escapes her, the sound amplified in the stillness. Surely, my father hears her now; surely he and I can't go on pretending she isn't crying.
