... for no change comes calmly over the world... - Walter M. Miller

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... for no change comes calmly over the world...

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About Walter M. Miller

Walter Michael Miller, Jr. (23 January 1923 – 9 January 1996) was an American science fiction writer, most famous for his novel A Canticle for Leibowitz (1959), winner of the 1961 Hugo Award for best novel.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Birth Name: Walter Michael Miller Jr.
Alternative Names: Walter M. Miller, Jr. Walter Michael Miller, Jr.

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Additional quotes by Walter M. Miller

The abbot snapped off the set. "Where’s the truth”? he asked quietly. “What’s to be believed? Or does it matter at all? When mass murder’s been answered with mass murder, rape with rape, hate with hate, there’s no longer much meaning in asking whose ax is the bloodier. Evil, on evil, piled on evil. Was there any justification in our ‘police action’ in space? How can we know? Certainly there was no justification for what they did — or was there? We only know what that thing says, and that thing is a captive. The Asian radio has to say what will least displease its government; ours has to say what will least displease our fine patriotic opinionated rabble, which is what, coincidentally, the government wants it to say anyhow, so where’s the difference?"

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There were things of the times, and a few things that were timeless. The times came as a result of a particular human culture. The timeless came as a result of any human culture at all. And Cultural Man was a showman. He created display windows of culture for an audience of men, and paraded his aspirations and ideals and purposes thereon, and the displays were necessary to the continuity of the culture, to the purposeful orientation of the species.

Beyond one such window, he erected an altar, and placed a priest before it to chant a liturgical description of the heart-reasoning of his times. And beyond another window, he built a stage and set his talking dolls upon it to live a dramaturgical sequence of wishes and woes of his times.

True, the priests would change, the liturgy would change, and the dolls, the dramas, the displays — but the windows would never — no never — be closed as long as Man outlived his members, for only through such windows could transient men see themselves against the background of a broader sweep, see man encompassed by Man. A perspective not possible without the windows.

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