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It was the kind of experience, Molly said, that would grow calluses on an angel's ass.
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
Experience
Kind
Would
Calluses
Molly
Ass
Angel
Grow
Grows
More quotes by Robert Charles Wilson
Promises were like bad checks, easy to write and hard to cash.
Robert Charles Wilson
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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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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Is there any evidence to the contrary? I don't need certainty in order to act on a well-founded suspicion.
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Since Deacon Hollingshead's arrival in town last July the Dominion had been hard at work, cleansing New York City of moral corruption. Corruption is a popular word with the enthusiasts of the Dominion, usually uttered as a prelude to the knife, the docket, or the noose.
Robert Charles Wilson
One doesn't have to understand in order to look. One has to look, in order to understand.
Robert Charles Wilson
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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Personally, I don't believe in anything more supernatural than what you read about in the Bible, and I only believe that one day out of seven.
Robert Charles Wilson
Nobody wants to conduct an autopsy on a dead saint.
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When does loyalty become martyrdom?
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You must not make the mistake of thinking that because nothing lasts, nothing matters.
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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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Average people seldom talked about anything interesting and often hurt each other savagely.
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Children wear their natures like brightly-colored clothes that's why they lie so transparently. Adulthood is the art of deceit.
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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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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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You never stop being a parent, Adam, no matter how old or wise your child becomes you'll see.
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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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Goddamn you, Jacob said. There's no damnation, Jacob. No Heaven but the forest and no God but the hive.
Robert Charles Wilson
It was amazing how these events lost their impact, translated through the flat gaze of a video screen.
Robert Charles Wilson
