Robert J. Sawyer Quotes

I guess what it means is this: to be human is to be fragile. We are easily hurt, and not just physically. We are easily hurt emotionally, too. So, as you move through life, my son, try not to hurt others.

You are spoiled by being a sociologist, Lansing. In the hard sciences, we occasionally have to face the reality that some of our theories will actually be disproven.

Only a fool fights in a building that’s on fire.

“And of me you ask which choice you should make?” said the translator’s voice.
“Yes,” I said.
There was the sound of rocks grinding, followed by a brief silence, and then: “The moral choice is obvious,” said the Wreed. “It always is.”
“And?” I said. “What is the moral choice?”
More sounds of rocks, then: “Morality cannot be handed down from an external source.” ... “It must come from within.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
The Wreed wavered and vanished.

He who foresees calamities suffers them twice over.

And Canadians didn’t like guns, either—they had no Second Amendment, or whatever damned thing it was that made Americans think they could go around armed.

Nothing is anything unless it is something. In other words, a concept without material reality is meaningless.

Science holds our answer; knowledge—real knowledge, verifiable knowledge, not superstition, not religious nonsense—will be our salvation.

The sad truth, Afsan, is that often what we intend has little to do with what we achieve.

Adjectives modify nouns, adverbs modify verbs, advertisers modify the truth.

“Good luck—and God protect.” I was sure that little reference to God was for the sake of the network cameras. Ching-Mei was an atheist. She only had faith in empirical data, in experimental results.

Afsan stood tall. “I am not afraid.”
“Fear is important, young one. Fear is the counselor. Those who don’t know when to fear wind up dead.”

I did learn one valuable lesson, though.
I learned that you can’t choose the ways in which you’ll be tested.

I have no choice, do I?
Afsan turned his blind eyes on his friend. "That's the funny thing about being a leader, Dybo: you rarely do."

The Lord works in mysterious ways. Mrs. Lansbury had always said that. Everything happens for a purpose.
Such bull. Such unmitigated crap. I felt my stomach knotting. Cancer didn’t happen for any purpose. It tore people apart; if a god did create life, then he’s a shoddy workman, churning out flawed, self-destructing products.