Robin Sloan Quotes

There had to be a scale somewhere — the scale of stars, the scale of far-off cosmic super-beings — upon which we ourselves, we humans with our cities and bridges and subterranean markets, would look like the lactobacilli and the yeast.

Your parents are weirdos, in the best possible way. They do not celebrate birthdays; never in your life have you received a present on the tenth of December. Instead, you are given books on the days that their authors were born.

The internet: always proving that you're not quite as special as you suspected.

Like I said, everything’s a treasure to somebody. But a lot of times, you can’t find that somebody.” That’s depressing. If these little objects, so significant to the history of printing and typography and human communication, were lost in a giant storage unit … what chance do any of us have?

Scoping myself out in my standup mirror, I turned and gently twerked.

"They say Shakespeare invented the internal monologue."
Oh, I am very familiar with the internal monologue.

The way he says it, I can hear the capital letters.

Uma menininha de cabelo ruivo corre até a mesa da entrada, rindo e quase se sufocando com um emaranhado de fios verdes.
Um belo cachecol? Ela sorri, saltitante. — Olá — digo. — Posso-te perguntar uma coisa? — Ela ri e balança a cabeça. — Como farias para encontrar uma agulha num palheiro?

A menina para, pensativa, puxando o fio verde em torno do pescoço. Na realidade, ela está a pensar sobre o problema. Pequenas engrenagens estão funcionando. Ela retorce os dedinhos juntos, refletindo. É muito fofa. Por fim, ela olha para mim e diz com seriedade. — Eu pediria à palha para encontrar a agulha. — Então, emite um guincho fantasmagórico baixo e sai pulando em um pé só.

Um gongo antigo da dinastia Song ribomba na minha cabeça. Sim, claro. Ela é um génio!

The suburban mind cannot comprehend the emergent complexity of a New York sidewalk.

A fellowship of secret scholars spent five hundred years on this task. Now we're penciling it in for a Friday morning.

The whole economy suddenly felt like a game of musical chairs, and I was convinced I needed to grab a seat, any seat, as fast as I could.

"He paused, then added, "Some of them are working very hard indeed."
"What are they doing?"
"My boy!" he said, eyebrows raised. As if nothing could be more obvious: "They are reading.

Our books still do not require batteries. But I am no fool. It is a slender advantage.

"Then we will do two things," Penumbra says, nodding. "First, I will tell you just a little of our history. Then, to understand, you must see the Reading Room. There, my proposal will become clear, and I dearly hope you will accept it."
Of course we'll accept it. That's what you do on a quest. You listen to the old wizard's problem and then you promise to help him.

I'd sit at my kitchen table and start scanning help-wanted ads on my laptop, but then a browser tab would blink and I'd get distracted and follow a link to a long magazine article about genetically modified wine grapes. Too long, actually, so I'd add it to my reading list. Then I'd follow another link to a book review. I'd add the review to my reading list, too, then download the first chapter of the book — third in a series about vampire police. Then, help-wanted ads forgotten, I'd retreat to the living room, put my laptop on my belly, and read all day. I had a lot of free time.