Tim Powers Quotes

The seas and the weathers are what is; your vessels adapt to them or sink.

Gladhand sipped his whiskey. “Bourbon renewal, I called this,” he said, waving his glass. “One sip and the whole neighborhood looks better.”

Terracotta says people can’t help what they do, any more than a rock rolling down a hill can. The rock might think it has a choice about rolling left or right, just like people think they choose what they do, but really it’s all just physics.

Processions of priests and religiosi have been for several days past praying for rain; but the gods are either angry, or nature is too powerful.

Work out your own damnation," he said breathlessly, "in fear and trembling.

What was that building?" Thomas asked, leaning on the coping, and staring out at the conflagration.
"Oh, a city office bombed by radicals," Spencer answered, "or a radicals' den bombed by city officers. I just hope it doesn't spread real far on this wind.

“This fruit syrup stuff is no good for smoking; it’s only fit for impressing ignorant girls.”
Tyler shrugged, as if to say that that was reason enough to smoke it right there.

I got to missing her, the way things used to be here, the past. The past," she repeated. "It's always out there, isn't it? I hate now. I hate that whenever you look at a clock, it shows a different time. What's the use of knowing what time it is, if it's always changing? And it's always later!

Your skull in gold will be more valuable than others, being solid all through.

I'd offer you a drink," he said, "but all I have is the good stuff.

Where's the sane world?" Castine asked as she followed him around to the front of the Saturn. "I used to live there. I think I still have pictures.

I’m not a joiner. Any time you work with people, they turn out to be inept clowns.

The landlord crossed himself when they checked in, but an English ten-pound note for a week’s lodging overcame whatever superstitious misgivings the man may have had.

Bradshaw sighed and swallowed, feeling the volatile coldness in his throat and trying to remember what tequila tasted like. Pepper and turpentine, as far as he could recall.

Love isn’t in the category of normal things. Not any worthwhile kind of love, anyway.