Take a Look through our Lens
“Our species doesn’t operate by reality. It operates by stories. Cities are a story. Money is a story. Space was a story, once. A king tells us a story about who we are and why we’re great, and that story is enough to make us go kill people who tell a different story. Or maybe the people kill the king because they don’t like his story and have begun to tell themselves a different one.” ~ Becky Chambers, Record of a Spaceborn Few
"Seven Cities was an ancient civilization, steeped in the power of antiquity, where Ascendants once walked on every trader track, every footpath, every lost road between the forgotten places." ~Steven Erikson, Deadhouse Gates
“A few, less constrained by pride and more resilient, survived and had children. Their offspring grew up with no illusions about the supremacy of humankind or anykind. They matured and observed the world around them through different eyes. Roll the log. Give and take. Bend with the wind. Adapt, adapt, adapt …!” ~ Alan Dean Foster, Midworld
“Wax moved over, gun out, and glanced around the corner into the kitchen. It was just large enough for one person to lie down in. He knew this because of the bloody corpse stretched out on the floor…” ~ Brandon Sanderson, Shadows of Self
“The murderer is not unaccountable for his own murder, And the robbed is not blameless in being robbed.” ~ Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
"Slowly, Whiskeyjack studied each man in his squad. He saw the caring in their eyes, the open offer to the friendship he'd spent years suppressing. All that time pushing them away, pushing everyone away, and the stubborn bastards just kept on coming back." ~ Steven Erikson, Gardens of the Moon
“When this is done, Jerkface, I will hold your tarnished and melted pin up as my trophy as your smoldering ship marks your pyre and the final resting place of your crushed and broken corpse!” ~ Brandon Sanderson, Skyward
“It was a dark, blustery afternoon in spring, and the city of London was chasing a small mining town across the dried-out bed of the old North Sea.” ~ Philip Reeve, Mortal Engines
“The visionary language of the doomed reaches heights of linguistic ardor with which language of the blessed and saved cannot compete.” ~ Toni Morrison, Paradise
