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Everybody falls, and we all land somewhere.

Robert Charles Wilson

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Robert Charles Wilson
Age: 70
Born: 1953
Born: December 15
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Whittier
California
Falls
Somewhere
Land
Everybody
Fall

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I understand so very little. But I am not afraid to look: I am a good observer at last. My eyes are open, and I am not afraid.
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To capture the pawn, threaten the queen.
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An honest book is almost as good as a friend.
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There's no drug that'll make a stupid man smart.
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The conversation was mesmerizing, not for its content but for the cadences of the talk, the rhythm we fell into when we were alone, now as before. Every conversation between friends or lovers creates its own easy or awkward rhythms, hidden talk that runs like a subterranean river under even the most banal exchange.
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The attacking piece displaces its victim. The vanquished piece leaves the plane of the board entirely. But it does not, in a higher sense, cease to exist.
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It was the kind of experience, Molly said, that would grow calluses on an angel's ass.
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John Scalzi is a fresh and appealing new voice, and Old Man's War is classic SF seen from a modern perspective—a fast-paced tour of a daunting, hostile universe.
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One doesn't have to understand in order to look. One has to look, in order to understand.
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It was amazing how these events lost their impact, translated through the flat gaze of a video screen.
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You must not make the mistake of thinking that because nothing lasts, nothing matters.
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Average people seldom talked about anything interesting and often hurt each other savagely.
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Nobody wants to conduct an autopsy on a dead saint.
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Times like this, with the wind moving the grass and curling around her like a huge cool hand, Tess felt the world as a second presence, as another person, as if the wind and the grass had voices of their own and she could hear them talking.
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We spent a lot of time discussing cosmology first. I think that was your father's unique way of evaluating people. You can tell a lot about a person, he once said, by the way they look at the stars.
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What had been released into the desert vacuum and starry oases of the galaxy was the inexorable logic of reproduction and natural selection. What followed was parasitism, predation, symbiosis, interdependency chaos, complexity, life.
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We're all born strangers to ourselves and each other, and we're seldom formally introduced.
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Some things are taken away from you, some you leave behind and some you carry with you, world without end.
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When does loyalty become martyrdom?
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I loved Molly. Or at least I told myself I did. Or, if what I felt for her was not love, it was at least a plausible imitation, a convincing substitute.
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