Quote

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.

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
Work
Tonight
Prettily
Bones
Writhe
Instruments
Cunningly
Whenever
Suck
Upon
Marrow
Spirit
Agony
Music
Dry
Play
Burn
Bodiless

More quotes by Roger Zelazny

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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 no shame to lose to me, mortal. Even among mythical creatures there are very few who can give a unicorn a good game.
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The dead are too much with us.
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When you are about to die, a wombat is better than no company at all.
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If I get enough letters saying you never explained this or that, I suppose I'll have to write another book.
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The most difficult thing about Time, I have learned, is doing it.
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Any man would be forsworn to gain a kingdom.
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If the liberal arts do nothing else they provide engaging metaphors for the thinking they displace.
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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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That's life: trust and you're betrayed don't trust and you betray yourself.
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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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The day of battle dawned pink as the fresh-bitten thigh of a maiden.
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Of course it does not apply to me. I am the soul of honor, kindness, mercy and goodness. Trust me in all things.
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I enjoy slaughtering beasts, and I think of my relatives constantly.
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When your bow is broken and your last arrow spent, then shoot, shoot with your whole heart.
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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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Even a mirror will not show you yourself, if you do not wish to see.
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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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Nick swore he'd die with this boots on, on some exotic safari, but he found his Kilimanjaro in a hospital on Earth, where they'd cured everything that was bothering him, except for the galloping pneumonia he'd picked up in the hospital. That had been, roughly, two hundred and fifty years ago. I'd been a pallbearer.
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