Alastair Reynolds Quotes

Nature shouldn’t be able to do this, Sunday thought. It shouldn’t be able to produce something that resembled the work of directed intelligence, something artful, when the only factors involved were unthinking physics and obscene, spendthrift quantities of time. Time to lay down the sediments, in deluge after deluge, entire epochs in the impossibly distant past when Mars had been both warm and wet, a world deluded into thinking it had a future. Time for cosmic happenstance to hurl a fist from the sky, punching down through these carefully superimposed layers, drilling through these carefully superimposed layers, drilling the geological chapters like a bullet through a book. And then yesterday more time—countless millions of years—for wind and dust to work their callous handiwork, scouring and abrading, wearing the exposed layers back at subtly different rates depending on hardness and chemistry, util these deliberate-looking right-angled steps and contours began to assume grand and imperial solidity, rising from the depths like the stairways of the gods.
Awe-inspiring, yesterday. Sometimes it was entirely right and proper to be awed. And recognising the physics in these formations, the hand of time and matter and the nuclear forces underpinning all things, did not lessen that feeling. What was she, ultimately, but the end product of physics and matter? And what was her art but the product of physics and matter working on itself?

It was a numbers game, not a guaranteed method of avoiding being killed, but Clavain had been a soldier long enough to know that this was, ultimately, what most combat situations boiled down to.

I don’t question your loyalty, Skade. I just wonder exactly what it is you’re loyal to.

The church-sponsored archaeologists were the only ones who had any kind of overview of the entire haul of relics, and they were under intense pressure to ignore any evidence that conflicted with Quaicheist scripture. That was why Rashmika wrote them so many letters, and why their infrequent replies were always so evasive. She wanted an argument; she wanted to question the entire accepted view of the scuttlers. They wanted her to go away.

It was the wrong approach. But it was the only way we—they—could see at the time. So we mustn’t mock them for their mistakes. In two hundred years, someone will be just as quick to mock us for ours, if we’re not careful.

But when she tried to say something, the words always seemed trite and inadequate. Nothing measured up. When any moment might be their last, there was nothing she could ever imagine saying that had the necessary dignity to fill that instant. Silence was better. Silence had its own dignity.

Still don't trust us?" "First rule of complex systems," I said. "You can't tell friends from enemies.

I know what you're feeling," Meroka said. "You're thinking, this was my little adventure, it was all revolving around me. And now it's not. You're just a detail, swept up in the stuff she's making happen. Welcome to the way most of us spend our lives feeling, Cutter. We're just turds swirling our way down the pipe.

No act of knowledge acquisition is entirely without risk.

The future might have been crammed with miracles and wonders, but it also offered truly awesome opportunities for screwing up.

So you've no qualms." "Qualms?" Merlin set down the papers he had been leafing through. "I've so many qualms they're in danger of self-organizing. I occasionally have a thought that isn't a qualm. But I'll tell you this. Sometimes you just have to do the obvious thing. They have an item I need, and there's a favor I can do for them. It's that simple. Not everything in the universe is a riddle.

But you seem so nonchalant about it all," Teal said.
Merlin pondered this for a few seconds. "Do you think being not nonchalant would make any difference? I don't know that it would. We're here in the moment, aren't we? And the moment will have its way with us, no matter how we feel about things."
"Fatalist."
"Cheerful realist. There's a distinction.

I thought debate was supposed to be healthy," she countered. "It is," Auger replied, "so long as you don't disagree with me.

I guess I’ll do what everyone else does: get on with my life and forget the big questions.

Civilisations beyond number had risen from obscurity, considering themselves masters of all creation, before fading back into the footnotes of history.