Somewhere, deep within her, surfaces a tiny clockwork submarine. There are times when you can only take the next step. And then another.

Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

And, for an instant, she stared directly into those soft blue eyes and knew, with an instinctive mammalian certainty, that the exceedingly rich were no longer even remotely human.

Generation X is dead. It has come to mean anyone aged 13 to 55 years old.

I took Punk to be the detonation of some slow-fused projectile buried deep in society's flank a decade earlier, and I took it to be, somehow, a sign.

The future has already arrived. It's just not evenly distributed yet.

I think that technologies are morally neutral until we apply them. It's only when we use them for good or for evil that they become good or evil.

When you want to know how things really work, study them when they're coming apart.

Language is to the mind more than light is to the eye.

People who feel safer with a gun than with guaranteed medical insurance don't yet have a fully adult concept of scary.

We are that strange species that constructs artifacts intended to counter the natural flow of forgetting.

For others, in spite of myself, from myself.

Whichever theory we adopt to give a rational explanation of human existence, that theory must take into account and explain the mental nature we see at work in all modern communities.

Ignorance makes most men go into a political party, and shame keeps them from getting out of it.

When you play a game of thrones you win or you die.

Never underestimate the power of dramatic lips.

Maybe it is desperation. Maybe we can't let things fall apart without trying. We can't let go of the people we love.

I always root for the bad guy and I don't think you have a great movie without a great villain.

The world is speaking to you every day, you just don't know how to listen.

If you get far enough away you'll be on your way back home.

The day before yesterday has always been a day of glamor, of gilt and glory. The present is sordid and prosaic. Time colors history as it does a meerschaum pipe.