L. Sprague de Camp Quotes

The jackal fell into a dye pot and thought himself a peacock.

Either the letter had been lost on the way; or, more likely, Menon had neglected to write it. Were I Zeus, I would appoint a special fiend to harass those who do not write the letters they have promised.

These folk are such liars that they think all other men are, too.

I've been looking forward to serious talks with you, O philosopher, but I have been over-busy with my duties."
"You'll be frightfully disappointed. I gnaw at people's basic assumptions, and most folk loathe having their basic assumptions disturbed."
"I fear no truth, however painful.

The wise man does not defy necessity.

It was very puzzling. Why had all this happened to her? In the old days, according to her researches, one blamed a jealous or capricious god for one’s undeserved misfortunes, but nobody had taken the gods seriously for generations. It was, thinkers agreed, a case of the mysterious operations of luck. Emotionally, however, blind chance was a poor substitute for a god when you wanted something on which to turn your resentment at the hard treatment accorded you by fate.

It must be that Terran love of theirs. Remember the quicksand? Whatever troubles it may cause, that kind of love makes them run risks for each other they wouldn’t for anybody else.

Cold comfort," said Bloch. "Like most oracular verse, full of vague ominous intimations of nothing in particular.

From all I gather, love of individuals is more important among you than love of your Community. If that's the case, how can your Communities be well run?"
"Mostly they aren't," said Bloch, relighting his pipe. "But we have a lot of fun.

I’ve been saying a special prayer to Eunmar; did you know I believe in the old gods? If you try hard enough, I’ve found, you can believe anything.

I am sorry, my dear, but that is the best advice we can give you. If some irrational rule of your society prevents, so much the worse for your society.

There must be something. No, nothing. But there must be, if she could only be clever enough to think of it. What, then? How do you know there is anything to think of? There simply must be. But that’s wretched logic; things don’t exist because you wish they did…

Antis, looking up from his fire-making to watch the flying fish, remarked, “That’s an omen of change.”
“What is?”
“When a flying fish circles withershins.”
“Oh, silly! You see omens in everything, and changes are always occurring.”

You make it sound wonderful, sir. Could I but be sure…”
“Wait to be sure of anything and you will find yourself looking out through the sides of a funerary urn, your quest unaccomplished.

In all these fights and flights I have never known that mad joy of battle of which the epics speak. Before the combat I am frightened, during it I am confused, and after it I am weary and disgusted.