A man lies upon the floor, spreads his arms, and transforms himself into a ship of a thousand sails.

You're mortal, and only a mortal can afford to be romantic. When we conquered death, we murdered love.

Perhaps God waits for us to be empty, so he may fill us with himself.

A child has little defense against the sight of a parent laid low. Parents, like the earth beneath our feet and the sun above our heads, are immutable objects, eternal and reliable. If one should fall, who might vouch the sun itself won't fall, burning, into the sea?

Great sci-fi has never shied from tackling the Big Questions, though really great sci-fi never forgets to entertain us along the way. Shock and awe applies to art, as well.

Maybe you reach a certain point in evolution where boredom is the greatest threat to your survival. Maybe this isn't a planetary takeover at all, but a game. Like a kid pulling wings off flies.

Dr. Warthrop chopped off my finger with a butcher knife.