People From London

"On December 22, 1986, finding I was body positive, I set myself a target: I would disclose my secret and survive Margaret Thatcher. I did. Now I have set my sights on the millennium and a world where we are all equal."

"People say to me, "You make fantastic films" and I say, "No, I make documentaries.""

"Winter isn’t a season – it’s a calling."

"The numbers were too great for HiberTech to hide what had happened. As it was, well-engineered corporate surprise, orchestrated bafflement, faux delight, suitable soul-searching and feigned contrition won the day."

"You’ll know the beginning easily enough; it’s when it all started going weird."

"“Oh, hullo, Worthing,” he said in a cheery manner. “How are things?” “Outlook stormy with a chance of scattered death moving in randomly from all points of the compass.”"

"“How is that working out?” I asked. “Somewhere between frustratingly slow and fiendishly elusive.”"

"I’d been so convinced of that particular narrative I never for one moment stopped to reappraise the situation."

"People die in the Winter; it’s what it’s there for."

"“It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not,” he said, “it’s what everyone believes that’s important.”"

"“I lost sixty soldiers under my command.” “Your fault?” I asked. “No, but they were all my responsibility, so it amounts to the same thing.”"

"I don’t care one way or the other if the big A is using you to scratch an itch, but think very carefully of actions, Wonky. They have a dismaying tendency to be followed by consequences, and sometimes quite bad ones."

"“Agree?” “Yes, ma’am.” “I don’t like subordinates always agreeing,” she said. “Sycophants have no place in my department. You’re to speak your mind when the opportunity calls for it.” “How will I know when that is?” “I shall inform you.”"

"“Last season we had the Reduced Shakespeare Company doing ‘Highlights of the Mostly Complete History of Condensing Stuff (abridged)’.”"

"No, I don’t want to seem underhand or insulting but Toccata’s a poisonous, untrustworthy, self-serving little reptile – with a severe personality disorder and a disquieting capacity for cannibalism."

"There were the rules we were taught, and there were the rules we did our job by. The two were related, but as distant cousins rather than siblings."

"Feedback loops, echo chambers, circular reinforcement. All could play a part in escalating the utterly imaginary to the level of reality, sometimes with fatal consequences."

"“She can’t be that volatile.” “She punched me in the eye so hard she detached my retina,” he said, “and all I did was place the preposition at the end of the sentence.”"

"If you’ve not dreamed, you’ve never truly slept. Dreams are the place where you can be yourself; do anything, be anything. The mind set free."

"“I’ll be honest,” I said, “I have nothing against anyone who believes, but I think it’s a dangerous nonsense.”"

"“Passing through?” “Yes; here to meet with Moody.” “You’ll get more sense from lichen. What’s with your head?” Unlike talking to The Notable Goodnight, where I needed to be polite, this was an answer I could have fun with. “It’s the final stages of an excruciatingly painful and incurable genital wasting disease. Luckily, it’s only spread by skin contact. Sorry, I should’ve said that before I shook your hand. Remiss of me – apologies.” Shamanic Bob smiled. “Fair enough,” he said. “I think I deserved that.” “Yes, I think you did.”"

"More welcoming were a couple of Welsh Tourist Board posters. One was advertising the local area with the now-universal slogan “Visit Wales – Not Always Raining.”"

"“You need to delay the train.” “How do I do that?” “Your head on the rails?” “Seriously?” “I don’t know. But put it this way: if you don’t delay the train, I will punch you five times hard in the head.” “Once would probably be enough as a punishment.” “You don’t need to be punished, you need motivating. And not getting punched five times is a terrific motivator. Take my word for it.”"

"“Jealous?” she said. “Of what you have to offer? A second-rate Consul and a third-rate vaudeville act peddling fourth-rate advice to a fifth-rate Novice?”"

"“What do you think?” “I can hardly contain my indifference.”"

"It would have been easy to dislike her intensely, but I actually felt nothing for her at all."

"“I always really admired you growing up. Always smiling through your unhappiness. A real inspiration.” “I wasn’t unhappy.” “You looked unhappy.” “Looks can be deceptive.” “All too true,” she said, “but I meant what I said: inspirational in a sort of tragic way, like you were the failure in the family, but always looked on the bright side of everything.” “You’re very kind,” I said, long used to Megan’s ways, “but it could have been much worse: I could have been born without tact or empathy, and be shallow, self-absorbed and hideously patronizing.”"

"“Think of it this way: A single brain cell has no intelligence, but in company it can do extraordinary things. Perhaps the entirety of existence is the true, unifying intelligence that drives what occurs—for a reason that is quite beyond our understanding, or even to a higher plane where the concept of understanding is laughably redundant.” It was an interesting concept. Mycroft had often theorized that the whole of existence was so large and hideously complex that it must be sentient. And if this were so, then it must have a truly warped sense of humor and have an abiding love of math and hydrogen—and a deep loathing for order."

"I don’t think God has any more idea than you or I about what’s going on."

"“Do I have to talk to insane people?” “You’re a librarian now. I’m afraid it’s mandatory.”"

"“It’s simply part of wider research on a neural expansifier that increases the synaptic pathways in the brain. Aside from repairing traumatic damage and reversing the effects of dementia, it can potentially make dumb people smart.” “I’m trying hard, but I’m not sure I can think of a more useful invention.”"

"Having to mix with dimwits is hideously boring. Great-Uncle Mycroft put it best when he said that for a genius this planet is excruciatingly dull, only made briefly more illuminating when another genius happens along."

"Sadly, a lifetime in law enforcement tends not to create a bunch of grateful villains happy that you have shown them the error of their ways, but rather a lot of disgruntled ne’er-do-wells eager for payback."

"Everything comes to an end. A good bottle of wine, a summer’s day, a long-running sitcom, one’s life, and eventually our species. The question for many of us is not that everything will come to an end but when. And can we do anything vaguely useful until it does?"

"Sprockett buzzed briefly to himself. “Does that sort of thing happen out there in the RealWorld, or is it just in books?” I thought for a moment. Of the untidy chaos I had seen in the RealWorld; of not knowing what was going to happen; of not knowing what, if anything, head relevance. The RealWorld was a sprawling mess of a book in need of a good editor. I thought then of the narrative order here in the BookWorld, our resolved plot lines and the observance of natural justice we took for granted. “Literature is claimed to be a mirror of the world,” I said, “but the Outlanders are fooling themselves. The BookWorld is as orderly as people in the RealWorld hope their own world to be—it isn’t a mirror, it’s an aspiration.”"

"The idea that people actually do this because they like it strikes me as double insanity with added insanity."

"“Why didn’t he say so directly?” asked Sprockett, not unreasonably. “This is Fiction,” I explained. “The exigency of drama requires events to be clouded in ambiguity.”"

"Mrs. Next came back into the room. “You never told me you’d bought a gold-plated toilet.” Landen frowned. “We don’t have a gold-plated toilet.” “Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Next. I think I’ve just peed in your tuba.”"

"“Did she believe you?” “She’s an excellent journalist—of course not.”"

"Humans are more or less identical except for a few peculiar habits generally delineated by geographic circumstances and historical precedent. But essentially, they’re all the same and reading from the same rule book. To get along you have to appreciate the rules, but also know that other people know the rules—and that they know that you know the rules. Get it?"

"“Bipedal movement is the skill of controlled falling,” said Square. “If it weren’t so commonplace, it would seem miraculous—like much out here, to be truthful.”"

"“It’s highly disorderly,” he explained, “not like here. There is no easily definable plot, and you can run yourself ragged wondering what the significance can be of a chance encounter. You’ll also find that for the most part there is no shorthand to the narrative, so everything happens in a long and painfully drawn out sequence. Apparently the talk can be confusing—for the most part, people just say the first thing that comes into their heads.” “Is it as bad as they say it is?” “I’ve heard it’s worse. Here in the BookWorld, we say what needs to be said for the story to proceed. Out there? Well, you can discount at least eighty percent of chat as just meaningless drivel.” “I never thought the percentage was that high.” “In some individuals it can be as high as ninety-two percent. The people to listen to are the ones who don’t say very much.”"

"The good thing about being in the BookWorld is that we aren’t hampered by anything as awkward as physical laws. The RealWorld must be hideously annoying to do science in."

"To fail spectacularly is a loser’s paradise."

"I didn’t know much about Conspiracy, but I did know that its theorists were mostly paranoid and tended to value conviction above evidence."

"To a text-based life-form, unpredictable syntax and poor grammar is a source of huge discomfort. Ill-fitting grammar are like ill-fitting shoes. You can get used to it for a bit, but then one day your toes fall off and you can’t walk to the bathroom. Poor syntax is even worse. Change word order and a sentence useless for anyone Yoda except you have."

"About ten degrees upslope of Fiction, I could see our nearest neighbor: Artistic Criticism. It was an exceptionally beautiful island, yet deeply troubled, confused and suffused with a blanketing layer of almost impenetrable bullshit."

"“The ChronoGuard has shut itself down, and time travel is as it should be: technically, logically and theoretically…impossible.” “Good thing, too,” replied Landen. “It always made my head ache. In fact I was thinking of doing a self-help book for SF novelists eager to write about time travel. It would consist of a single word: Don’t.”"

"“I need to get home and have a long, hot bath and then a martini.” Thursday5 thought for a moment. “After you’ve drunk the long, hot bath,” she observed, “you’ll never have room for the martini.”"

"Rescue seemed a very remote possibility, and that was at the nub of the whole ethical-dilemma argument. You never come out on top, no matter what. The only way to win the game is not to play."