As the old saying went, the Manhattan Project wasn't built in a day. Or was that Rome? Something to do with Earth, anyway.

It's an ancient technique known as lying, Khouri.

At one time, the treatment for a certain kind of psychosis had been to push an ice pick up through the orbit of the eye, into the frontal lobe; the ice pick was then stirred around until it reduced the problematic brain tissue to non-functioning porridge.

You worry that we're becoming monsters. Merlin, we already were monsters. You didn't make us any worse.

Victory loses its meaning without the memory of what you've vanquished.

I really struggle to pinpoint whether I became a scientist because I like science fiction, or did I gravitate to science fiction because I identified strongly with scientists.

The cards always look different when it's your turn to play them; loaded with subtly different possibilities.