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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.
Robert Charles Wilson
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Robert Charles Wilson
Age: 71
Born: 1953
Born: December 15
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
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Whittier
California
Good
Lasts
Last
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Observer
Littles
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Afraid
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Eyes
More quotes by Robert Charles Wilson
Nobody wants to conduct an autopsy on a dead saint.
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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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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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Average people seldom talked about anything interesting and often hurt each other savagely.
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Consciousness, according to current scientific thought, was something the higher mammals had evolved in order to help them reproduce, much the way a garden slug secretes slime. It had no special ontological status. The self was a genetically modulated and biologically useful illusion.
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Goddamn you, Jacob said. There's no damnation, Jacob. No Heaven but the forest and no God but the hive.
Robert Charles Wilson
To capture the pawn, threaten the queen.
Robert Charles Wilson
It was amazing how these events lost their impact, translated through the flat gaze of a video screen.
Robert Charles Wilson
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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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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Promises were like bad checks, easy to write and hard to cash.
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These movies belonged to the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries that period of great, unsustainable, and hedonistic prosperity, driven by the burning of Earth's reserves of perishable oil, which culminated in the False Tribulation, and the wars, and the plagues, and the painful dwindling of inflated populations to more reasonable numbers.
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When does loyalty become martyrdom?
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What we cannot remember, we must rediscover.
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Everybody falls, and we all land somewhere.
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And death? I don't fear death. I dread the absence of it.
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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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There's no drug that'll make a stupid man smart.
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Ecstasy hates company.
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We're all born strangers to ourselves and each other, and we're seldom formally introduced.
Robert Charles Wilson
