Richard K. Morgan Quotes

You're an Envoy, Kovacs. You live by manipulation. We all do. We all live in the great manipulation matrix, and it's just one big struggle to stay on top."
I shook my head. "I didn't ask to be dealt in."
"Kovacs, Kovacs." Kawahara's expression was suddenly almost tender. "None of us ask to be dealt in. You think I asked to be born in Fission City, with a web-fingered dwarf for a father and a psychotic whore for a mother? You think I asked for that? We're not dealt in, we're thrown in, and after that it's just about keeping your head above water.

Society is, always has been and always will be a structure for the exploitation and oppression of the majority through systems of political force dictated by an élite, enforced by thugs, uniformed or not, and upheld by a wilful ignorance and stupidity on the part of the very majority whom the system oppresses.

Just as a primitive sextant functions on the illusion that the sun and stars rotate around the planet we are standing on, our senses give us the illusion of stability in the universe, and we accept it, because without that acceptance, nothing can be done.
Virginia Vidaura, pacing the seminar room, lost in lecture mode.
But the fact that a sextant will let you navigate accurately across an ocean does not mean that the suns and stars do rotate are us. For all that we have done, as a civilization, as individuals, the universe is not stable, nor is any single thing within it. Stars consume themselves, the universe itself rushes apart, and we ourselves are composed of matter in constant flux. Colonies of cells in temporary alliance, replicating and decaying, and housed within, an incandescent cloud of electrical impulse and precariously stacked carbon code memory. This is reality, this is self-knowledge, and the perception of it will, of course, make you dizzy.

This was no time for thinking. Thought in combat was a luxury about as appropriate as a hot bath and massage.

You're being a lot less courteous than befits a man in your situation." I thought that underneath the cool I could detect a ragged edge in her voice. Despite her much vaunted self-control, Reileen Kawahara wasn't much better at coping with disrespect that Bancroft, General MacIntyre, or any other creature of power I'd had dealings with. "Your life is in danger, and I am in a position to safeguard it."
"My life's been in danger before," I told her. "Usually as a result of some piece of shit like you making large-scale decisions about how reality ought to be run.

I paused and set down my glass, searching for the fine edge of deceit that always lies right up against the truth.

I'd rather you didn't smoke in here."
"Kawahara, I'd rather you died of an internal hemorrhage, but I don't suppose you'll oblige me.

Like Bancroft, MacIntyre had been a man of power, and like all men of power, when he talked of prices worth paying, you could be sure of one thing.
Someone else was paying.

Kristin, nothing ever does change." I jerked a thumb back at the crowd outside. "You'll always have morons like that, swallowing belief patterns whole so they don't have to think for themselves. You'll always have people like Kawahara and the Bancrofts to push their buttons and cash in on the program. People like you to make sure the game runs smoothly and the rules don't get broken too often. And when the Meths want to break the rules themselves, they'll send people like Trepp and me to do it. That's the truth, Kristin. It's been the truth since I was born a hundred and fifty years ago, and from what I read in the history books, it's never been any different. Better get used to it.

She held her discarded shoulder holster dangling in one hand, and her breasts moved beneath the thin cotton of a white T-shirt that bore the legend YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT—WHY DON’T YOU TRY IT FOR A WHILE?

When I was younger I used to go out looking for squalid brawls in the streets of Newpest. This got a couple of people stabbed, neither of them me, and led in turn to my apprenticeship in one of the Harlan’s World gangs, Newpest chapter. Later on I upgraded this kind of retreat by joining the military: brawling with a purpose, and with more extensive weaponry, but as it turned out, just as squalid. I don’t suppose I should have been as surprised as I was—the only thing the Marine Corps recruiter had really wanted to know was how many fights I had won.

Whatever world it is, whatever you’ve done there for better or worse, you always leave the same way.
Alone.

Culture is like a smog. To live within it, you must breathe some of it in and, inevitably, be contaminated.

Petty tyrant a long time back. He built this place."
"Trepp said it belonged to the Catholics."
Kawahara shrugged. "Petty tyrant with delusions of religion. Catholics get on well with tyranny. It's in the culture.

The essence of control is to remain hidden from view, is it not?