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I would never rest until I held vengeance and the throne within my hand, and good night sweet prince to anybody who stood between me and these things.

Roger Zelazny

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Roger Zelazny
Age: 58 †
Born: 1937
Born: May 13
Died: 1995
Died: June 14
Novelist
Poet
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Euclid
Ohio
Roger Joseph Zelazny
Roger Joseph Christopher Zelazny
Harrison Denmark
Things
Anybody
Never
Sweet
Would
Rest
Throne
Hand
Vengeance
Within
Thrones
Night
Prince
Hands
Stood
Good
Held

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Life is full of doors that don't open when you knock, equally spaced amid those that open when you don't want them to.
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Good-bye and hello, as always.
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Any man would be forsworn to gain a kingdom.
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The power to hurt ... has evolved in a direct relationship to technological advancement.
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The four points of the compass be logic, knowledge, wisdom and the unknown. Some do bow in that final direction. Others advance upon it. To bow before the one is to lose sight of the three. I may submit to the unknown, but never to the unknowable. The man who bows in that final direction is either a saint or a fool. I have no use for either.
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Then you must reconcile yourself to the fact that something is always hurt by any change. If you do this, you will not be hurt yourself.
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It is a pain in the ass waiting around for someone to try to kill you.
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At the end of the season of sorrows comes the time of rejoicing. Spring, like a well-oiled clock, noiselessly indicates this time.
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Strygalldwir is my name. Conjure with it and I will eat your heart and liver. Conjure with it? I can't even pronounce it, and my cirrhosis would give you indigestion.
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There's really nothing quite like someone's wanting you dead to make you want to go on living.
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I walked among Shadows, and found a race of furry creatures, dark and clawed and fanged, reasonably manlike, and about as intelligent as a freshman in the high school of your choice-sorry, kids, but what I mean is they were loyal, devoted, honest, and too easily screwed by bastards like me and my brother. I felt like the dee-jay of your choice.
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The most difficult thing about Time, I have learned, is doing it.
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Tonight I will suck the marrow from your bones!” it said. “I will dry them and work them most cunningly into instruments of music! Whenever I play upon them, your spirit will writhe in bodiless agony!” “You burn prettily,” I said.
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The day of battle dawned pink as the fresh-bitten thigh of a maiden.
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I enjoy slaughtering beasts, and I think of my relatives constantly.
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I know, too, that death is the only god who comes when you call.
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The universe did not invent justice. Man did. Unfortunately, man must reside in the universe.
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Time passed slowly, like and old man climbing a hill.
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I'm a lost soul. We do wail.
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To paraphrase Oedipus, Hamlet, Lear, and all those guys, I wish I had known this some time ago.
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