They floated for a while, two flesher-shaped creatures and a giant worm in a cloud of spinning metal fragments, an absurd collection of imaginary debris, glinting by the light of the true stars.

Diaspora starts about a thousand years from now. Most of human civilisation has moved inside computers; essentially, a major branch of our descendants consists of conscious software.

You know what they say the modern version of Pascal's Wager is? Sucking up to as many Transhumanists as possible, just in case one of them turns into God.

Widespread caffeine use explains a lot about the twentieth century.

Fandom is about fandom, it's a great big social club.

Pop science goes flying off in all kinds of fashionable directions, and it often drags a lot of SF writers with it. I've been led astray like that myself at times.

Being rewarded for anything other than the quality of their work is the fastest way to screw-up a writer-and it isn't only new ones who suffer from that.

For there is a truth which cannot be bought or sold, imposed by force, resisted or escaped.

I was six years old when my parents told me that there was a small, dark jewel inside my skull, learning to be me.

I'm rarely grabbed by anything the way I was when I was 10 years younger. About the only relatively new artists whose albums I own are Beck, and They Might Be Giants.

On his eighteenth day in the tiger cage, Robert Stoney began to lose hope of emerging unscathed.

i am anearthquake& dancemost heavilyupon all myfaults.

This is me, asking a risk-taker like you to trust me. To let me love you until I take my last breath. These were my last solo flights. From now on I want to wing everything with you and only you.

Death, however clearly foretold, still came unexpectedly.

From my own being, and from the dependency I find in myself and my ideas, I do, by an act of reason, necessarily infer the existence of a God, and of all created things in the mind of God.

My jobs on campaigns were pretty low on the totem pole - I was an advance man.

Every book has some real life in it. I was never pursued by an evil twin clone, but everything else in MR. MURDER was pretty much out of my own life.

A good many men and women want to get possession of secrets just as spendthrifts want to get money-for circulation.

The lips of the one I love are my perpetual pleasure.

Wise men have but few confidants, and cunning ones none.

I want someone who is open-minded, dedicated to whatever she is doing and isn't afraid to say I love you. As for looks, she shouldn't have three heads. I want a regular human being.