Alastair Reynolds Quotes

It was bad, but it was some other slightly less piquant flavour of bad.

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.

The simple fact was that she no longer hated them as a matter of principle. It was also a source of shameful amazement that she could ever have wasted so much energy on groundless prejudice, when acceptance and tolerance would have been the easier, even the lazier, course.

But at least you cared. At least you were ready to do something." "This little mess," Auger said, "is all because of people who were ready to do something. People like me, who always know when they're right and everyone else is wrong. Maybe what we need is a few less of us.

I feel as if I'm missing all the excitement." "In my experience," Tunguska said, making himself a temporary seat, "excitement is always better when it happens to other people.

No one ever took music away from me, but I’m damned if it ever sounds quite as good as it used to when I was twenty.

Anxiety is a useful tool: it forces us to make plans. But when too much anxiety freezes us into indecision, it needs checking.

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

Is that as bad as it sounds?" Floyd asked. "No," Auger said. "It's worse. A lot worse.

I'll survive," Floyd said. "I'm a private detective. If I don't get clouted on the head at least once a week, I'm not doing my job properly.

She must have walked through life with men like him falling at her feet, squashing them underfoot like autumn leaves. It probably happened so often that all she noticed was that nice crunching sound.

Nice girls don’t carry guns.

It must be a real one-horse town." Auger shook her head as she lit a cigarette. "It has wild ambitions of becoming a one-horse town.

Why was it never good news that put problems into perspective? Why did it always take another set of problems?

The central defect of the human mind," Custine said, "is its unfortunate habit of seeing patterns where none exist. Of course, that is also its chief asset." "But sometimes a very dangerous one.