Roger Zelazny

Robots are nice to work with. They mind their own business, and they never have anything to say.

“It is no shame to lose to me, mortal. Even among mythical creatures there are very few who can give a unicorn a good game.”
“I am pleased that you were not wholly bored,” Martin said. “Now will you tell me what you were talking about concerning the destruction of my species?”
“Oh, that,” Tlingel replied.

I feel obligated to point out, though, that I have always been a sucker for ideas I find aesthetically pleasing. The cosmic sweep of the thing - an interstellar kula chain - affirming the differences and at the same time emphasizing the similarities of all the intelligent races in the galaxy - tying them together, building common traditions... The notion strikes me as kind of fine.

Heredity or environment? I wondered wryly. We were all of us, to some degree, mad after his fashion. To be honest, it had to be a form of madness, to have so much and to strive so bitterly for just a little more, for a bit of an edge over the others. He carried this tendency to its extreme, that is all. He was a caricature of this mania in all of us. In this sense, did it really matter which of us was the traitor?

The day of battle dawned pink as the fresh-bitten thigh of a maiden.

Knowledge was what he needed. Fear was what he had.

...the headwaters of Shit Creek are a cruel and treacherous expanse.

"So I simply said one of the great trite truths: "There is generally more than one side to a story.

"Yes, I can understand greed."
"I call it a desire for security."

Of all the things a man may do, sleep probably contributes most to keeping him sane. It puts brackets about each day. If you do something foolish or painful today, you get irritated if somebody mentions it, today. If it happened yesterday, though, you can nod or chuckle, as the case may be. You've crossed through nothingness or dream to another island in Time.

Mercy, I have learned, is a thing that is withheld from one whenever he most needs it," he said. "Yet when he is in a position to grant it himself, those who withheld it previously cry out for it."

"If we don't make it, the population of the continent may be cut in half."
"If it's a question of them or me, I'd rather it was them."
"I sometimes wonder how people like you happen."
"The same way as anybody else, mister, and it's fun for a couple people for a while, and then the trouble starts."
"What did they ever do to you, Hell?"
"Nothing. What did they ever do for me? Nothing. Nothing. What do I owe them? The same."

Vishnu Vishnu Vishnu regarded regarded regarded Brahma Brahma Brahma...
They sat in the Hall of Mirrors.

I see myself as a novelist, period. I mean, the material I work with is what is classified as science fiction and fantasy, and I really don't think about these things when I'm writing. I'm just thinking about telling a story and developing my characters.

I was willing to die fighting, but it was senseless for all these men to go down with me. Perhaps my blood was tainted, despite my power over the Pattern. A true prince of Amber should have had no such qualms. I decided then that my centuries on the Shadow Earth had changed me, softened me perhaps, had done something to me which made me unlike my brothers.