Harlan Ellison Quotes

In me own humble way, for the last few years, I’ve been trying to do an Ombudsman’s job in speculative fiction. I’ve been trying to tell a little truth to people who choose to believe rumor, gossip, non sequiturs and outright insanity, rather than dealing with reality.

There comes a point in the downward slide of the human condition when a man ceases to be a man. He may still walk erect, but it is principally a matter of skeletal arrangement, not ethics.

"Master Timekeeper: Not everyone thinks so. Most people enjoy order.
Harlequin: I don't, and most of the people I know don't."
Master Timekeeper: That's not true. How do you think we caught you?
Harlequin: I'm not interested.
Master Timekeeper: A girl named pretty Alice told us who you were.
Harlequin: That's a lie.
Master Timekeeper: It's true. You unnerve her. She wants to belong, she wants to conform,
I'm going to turn you off.

Time is like a river flowing endlessly through the universe. And if you poled your flatboat in that river you might fight your way against the current and travel upstream into the past. Or go with the flow and rush into the future. This was in a less cynical time before toxic waste dumping and pollution filled the waterway of Chronus with the detritus of empty hours wasted minutes years of repetition and time that has been killed.

Es un error pensar que la ciencia ficción es un campo literario salvaje que se aparta de los caminos conocidos; puede ser un ingrediente más de cualquier tipo de ficción, del mismo modo que la ciencia y las tecnologías actuales forman parte integrante de nuestras vidas en todos sus aspectos.

We walked for some time, and grew to know each other, as best as we'd allow. These are some of the high points. They lack continuity. I don't apologize. I merely pointed it out, adding with some truth, I feel, that most liaisons lack continuity. We find ourselves in odd places at various times, and for a brief span we link our lives to others and then, our time elapsed, we move apart. Through a haze of pain occasionally, usually through a veil of memory that clings, then passes, sometimes as though we have never touched.

For a brief time I was here; and for a brief time I mattered.

Griffin stood silently, watching the waterfall, sensing more than he saw, understanding more than even his senses could tell him. This was, indeed, the Heaven of his dreams, a place to spend the rest of forever, with the wind and the water and the world another place, another level of sensing, another bad dream conjured many long times before. This was reality, an only reality for a man whose existence had been not quite bad, merely insufficient, tenable but hardly enriching. For a man who had lived a life of not quite enough, this was all there ever could be of goodness and brilliance and light. Griffin moved toward the falls. The darkness grew darker.

Posing the question: does the god of love use underarm deodorant, vaginal spray and fluoride toothpaste?

There are certain injustices in this life you’ve got to do something about. You can’t just say that you can’t fight it, or it’s too much trouble, or that you don’t have the time or the effort, or that you can’t win. Forget all that. Fight them all!

These are the sounds in the night: First, the sound of darkness, lapping at the edges of a sea of movement, itself called silence. Then, second, the fingertip-sensed sound of the cyclical movement of the universe as it gnaws its way through the dust-film called Time. And last, the animal sounds of two people making love. The moist sounds of two bodies in concert.

You are not entitled to your opinion. You are entitled to your informed opinion. No one is entitled to be ignorant.

I now believe that television itself, the medium of sitting in front of a magic box that pulses images at us endlessly, the act of watching TV, per se, is mind crushing. It is soul deadening, dehumanizing, soporific in a poisonous way, ultimately brutalizing. It is, simply put so you cannot mistake my meaning, a bad thing.

That was the first time I ever heard that miserable excuse for hackneyed formula writing. Our hero wouldn’t act that way. Our lead won’t allow her character to act that way. Our people wouldn’t act that way. No, indeed not. What they can do is act the same damned predictable way each and every week, in each and every new situation. Never mind that human beings are irrational and unpredictable and an amalgam of good and bad and smart and dumb, never mind that the most universal reason that most of us do anything, even if it gets us in trouble or messes us up, is that It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time.

You can't win, you can't break even, and you can't get out of the fucking game.