Short Fiction quotes
The lines readers remember from Short Fiction, by Philip K. Dick.
36 quotes · About the book
Standout lines
What action would not be futile, when a man could look upon his own aged, yellowed skull?
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Two centuries old. Would he still speak? Would he speak, if he could see it, the grinning, aged skull? What would there be for him to say, to tell the people? What message could he bring?
What action would not be futile, when a man could look upon his own aged, yellowed skull?
Better they should enjoy their temporary lives, while they still had them to enjoy.
A man who could hold his own skull in his hands would believe in few causes, few movements.
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What action would not be futile, when a man could look upon his own aged, yellowed skull? Better they should enjoy their temporary lives, while they still had them to enjoy.
A man who could hold his own skull in his hands would believe in few causes, few movements.
Rather, he would preach the opposite—
War, to a logical mind, is absurd. But in terms of human needs, it plays a vital role.
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“It is necessary for this hatred within the culture to be directed outward, toward an external group, so that the culture itself may survive its crisis. War is the result.
War, to a logical mind, is absurd. But in terms of human needs, it plays a vital role.
And it will continue to until Man has grown up enough so that no hatred lies within him.”
The owners have left for a time, and we must see that the cities are kept clean, that decay is prevented, that everything is kept oiled and in running condition.
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“No, we do much more. We are caretakers, watching over the whole world.
The owners have left for a time, and we must see that the cities are kept clean, that decay is prevented, that everything is kept oiled and in running condition.
The gardens, the streets, the water mains, everything must be maintained as it was eight years ago, so that when the owners return, they will not be displeased. We want to be sure that they will be completely satisfied.”
Perhaps it is a law of the universe, that things can only survive as groups by group violence.
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“Which is just as well, of course. Man must take control eventually, on his own. One hundred years, and after that they will have control of their own destiny. Perhaps I am wrong, perhaps war is more than a habit.
Perhaps it is a law of the universe, that things can only survive as groups by group violence.
“But I’m going ahead and taking the chance that it is only a habit, that I’m right, that war is something we’re so accustomed to that we don’t realize it is a very unnatural thing. Now as to the place!
Custom, habit, all the determining forces of learning were gone; only brute experience remained.
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Quiet. Stoic. A strange kind of fatalism gripped them. Nothing came as a surprise. They accepted anything that came along. There was no longer any normal, any natural course of things, moral or physical, for them to expect.
Custom, habit, all the determining forces of learning were gone; only brute experience remained.
“Am I walking too fast?” Hendricks said.
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Beyond Lies the Wub
The slovenly wub might well have said: Many men talk like philosophers and live like fools.
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The slovenly wub might well have said: Many men talk like philosophers and live like fools.
They had almost finished with the loading. Outside stood the Optus, his arms folded, his face sunk in gloom. Captain Franco walked leisurely down the gangplank, grinning.
“Oh, goodness!” the wub cried. “Is that all you people can think of, killing and cutting?”
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“I wonder if there’s a native inside it,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe we should open it up and have a look.”
“Oh, goodness!” the wub cried. “Is that all you people can think of, killing and cutting?”
Franco clenched his fists. “Come out of there! Whoever you are, come out!”
The Skull
What action would not be futile, when a man could look upon his own aged, yellowed skull?
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Two centuries old. Would he still speak? Would he speak, if he could see it, the grinning, aged skull? What would there be for him to say, to tell the people? What message could he bring?
What action would not be futile, when a man could look upon his own aged, yellowed skull?
Better they should enjoy their temporary lives, while they still had them to enjoy.
A man who could hold his own skull in his hands would believe in few causes, few movements.
Show the passage
What action would not be futile, when a man could look upon his own aged, yellowed skull? Better they should enjoy their temporary lives, while they still had them to enjoy.
A man who could hold his own skull in his hands would believe in few causes, few movements.
Rather, he would preach the opposite—
But he could not really escape, no more so than anyone else had ever escaped, or ever would.
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What did it matter if he put it off a month, a year, ten years, even fifty? Time was nothing. He had sipped chocolate with a girl born a hundred and fifty years before his time. Escape? For a little while, perhaps.
But he could not really escape, no more so than anyone else had ever escaped, or ever would.
Only, he had held it in his hands, his own bones, his own death’s-head.
The Defenders
War, to a logical mind, is absurd. But in terms of human needs, it plays a vital role.
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“It is necessary for this hatred within the culture to be directed outward, toward an external group, so that the culture itself may survive its crisis. War is the result.
War, to a logical mind, is absurd. But in terms of human needs, it plays a vital role.
And it will continue to until Man has grown up enough so that no hatred lies within him.”
The owners have left for a time, and we must see that the cities are kept clean, that decay is prevented, that everything is kept oiled and in running condition.
Show the passage
“No, we do much more. We are caretakers, watching over the whole world.
The owners have left for a time, and we must see that the cities are kept clean, that decay is prevented, that everything is kept oiled and in running condition.
The gardens, the streets, the water mains, everything must be maintained as it was eight years ago, so that when the owners return, they will not be displeased. We want to be sure that they will be completely satisfied.”
The Eyes Have It
I wrote to the Government, and they sent back a pamphlet on the repair and maintenance of frame houses.
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It was quite by accident I discovered this incredible invasion of Earth by lifeforms from another planet. As yet, I haven’t done anything about it; I can’t think of anything to do.
I wrote to the Government, and they sent back a pamphlet on the repair and maintenance of frame houses.
Anyhow, the whole thing is known; I’m not the first to discover it. Maybe it’s even under control.
Starfish can do the same thing, you know.
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Eyes, arms—and maybe more. Without batting an eyelash. My knowledge of biology came in handy, at this point. Obviously they were simple beings, unicellular, some sort of primitive single-celled things. Beings no more developed than starfish.
Starfish can do the same thing, you know.
I read on. And came to this incredible revelation, tossed off coolly by the author without the faintest tremor:
Let them come on. Let them invade Earth. I don’t want to get mixed up in it.
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I had had enough of the thing. I want to hear no more about it.
Let them come on. Let them invade Earth. I don’t want to get mixed up in it.
I have absolutely no stomach for it.
I have absolutely no stomach for it.
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I had had enough of the thing. I want to hear no more about it. Let them come on. Let them invade Earth. I don’t want to get mixed up in it.
I have absolutely no stomach for it.
The Hanging Stranger
Nobody stopped. Nobody paid any attention.
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Potter hurried off, joining the flow of people moving along the sidewalk. Men and women, passing by the park. A few glanced up curiously at the dark bundle—and then went on.
Nobody stopped. Nobody paid any attention.
“I’m going nuts,” Loyce whispered. He made his way to the curb and crossed out into traffic, among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him. He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little square of green.
Pseudo-men. Imitation men. Insects with ability to disguise themselves as men.
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Loyce closed his eyes in horror. His senses reeled. He hung on tight, clutching at the sagging fence. The shape, the man-shape, had abruptly fluttered up and flapped after the others. It flew to the sidewalk and came to rest among them.
Pseudo-men. Imitation men. Insects with ability to disguise themselves as men.
Like other insects familiar to Earth. Protective coloration. Mimicry.
Mr. Spaceship
The voice was feeble, the rustle of dry ashes.
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“I know him. Philip Kramer. … You’ve grown heavier, boy.”
The voice was feeble, the rustle of dry ashes.
“Is it true you’re married now?”
All at once they had found themselves inside a living creature, in its stomach, like Jonah inside the whale.
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It was weird, unnerving. He could not forget it, even now. He looked around the small room uneasily. What did it signify, the coming to life of metal and plastic?
All at once they had found themselves inside a living creature, in its stomach, like Jonah inside the whale.
It had been alive, and it had talked to them, talked calmly and rationally, as it rushed them off, faster and faster into outer space.
Now all at once it had been plunged back down the ladder again, prostrate before a power against which they were children.
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it made him uneasy. All his life he had controlled machines, bent nature and the forces of nature to man and man’s needs. The human race had slowly evolved until it was in a position to operate things, run them as it saw fit.
Now all at once it had been plunged back down the ladder again, prostrate before a power against which they were children.
Kramer got out of bed. He put on his bathrobe and began to search for a cigarette. While he was searching, the vidphone rang.
When a man thinks, he is.
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you people have no understanding of the mind at all. I realized that the transfer of a human brain from an organic body to a complex artificial space ship would not involve the loss of the intellectualization faculty of the mind.
When a man thinks, he is.
“When I realized that, I saw the possibility of an age-old dream becoming real. I was quite elderly when I first met you, Philip. Even then my lifespan had come pretty much to its end.
The human society has evolved war as a cultural institution, like the science of astronomy, or mathematics.
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“The world has been fighting for a long time, first with itself, then with the Martians, then with these beings from Proxima Centauri, whom we know nothing about.
The human society has evolved war as a cultural institution, like the science of astronomy, or mathematics.
War is a part of our lives, a career, a respected vocation. Bright, alert young men and women move into it, putting their shoulders to the wheel as they did in the time of Nebuchadnezzar. It has always been so.
No social custom is innate.
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“But is it innate in mankind? I don’t think so.
No social custom is innate.
There were many human groups that did not go to war; the Eskimos never grasped the idea at all, and the American Indians never took to it well.
Perhaps it is a law of the universe, that things can only survive as groups by group violence.
Show the passage
“Which is just as well, of course. Man must take control eventually, on his own. One hundred years, and after that they will have control of their own destiny. Perhaps I am wrong, perhaps war is more than a habit.
Perhaps it is a law of the universe, that things can only survive as groups by group violence.
“But I’m going ahead and taking the chance that it is only a habit, that I’m right, that war is something we’re so accustomed to that we don’t realize it is a very unnatural thing. Now as to the place!
Piper in the Woods
I wish I’d become a plant earlier.
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“
I wish I’d become a plant earlier.
”
Second Variety
Custom, habit, all the determining forces of learning were gone; only brute experience remained.
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Quiet. Stoic. A strange kind of fatalism gripped them. Nothing came as a surprise. They accepted anything that came along. There was no longer any normal, any natural course of things, moral or physical, for them to expect.
Custom, habit, all the determining forces of learning were gone; only brute experience remained.
“Am I walking too fast?” Hendricks said.
Soldiers are suckers for children.
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“To Variety Three. David and his bear. That worked even better.” Klaus smiled bitterly. “
Soldiers are suckers for children.
We brought them in and tried to feed them. We found out the hard way what they were after. At least, those who were in the bunker.”
Chapter II
Nobody fixes things. When they break you throw them away.
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Earl sneered. “
Nobody fixes things. When they break you throw them away.
”
Chapter III
He was seeing the destruction of a whole mountain range.
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At first he could not make out what was happening. The screen showed a vast foaming cloud, a vortex of motion. From the speaker came a low rumble, a deep-throated roar. After a time the screen shifted, showing a slightly different view. Suddenly Cole stiffened.
He was seeing the destruction of a whole mountain range.
The picture was coming from a ship, flying above what had once been the Albertine Mountain Range.
But I have no gods. At least, not any I can see.
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They don’t see into the future. They only make statistical predictions—not prophecies. There’s a big difference there, but Reinhart doesn’t understand it. Reinhart and his kind have made such things as the S.R.B. machines into gods.
But I have no gods. At least, not any I can see.
”
Robots can’t make decisions. They just react.
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There are tools to go along, you understand.” Sherikov paused, licking his lip. “We can’t get it done correctly. Only a few men can wire circuits using the micro-lenses and the little tools. We’ve tried robots, but there are too many decisions to be made.
Robots can’t make decisions. They just react.
”
One tiny mediocre sun, one dust mote out of a whole galaxy.
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You could wire it up right, and in five days. Nobody else can. And if it’s not wired up Centaurus will keep on running the galaxy and Terra will have to sweat it out here in the Sol system.
One tiny mediocre sun, one dust mote out of a whole galaxy.
”
Chapter IV
He was a blazing cinder, a half-consumed ash flaming in a universe of darkness.
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Cole lay in the darkness at the bottom of the hill. His whole body shrieked in agony as the unholy fire played over him.
He was a blazing cinder, a half-consumed ash flaming in a universe of darkness.
The pain made him twist and crawl like an insect, trying to burrow into the ground. He screamed and shrieked and struggled to escape, to get away from the hideous fire.
Instead of taking over an antiquated Empire, we have the entire cosmos to map and explore, God’s total creation.
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“The whole universe is open to us,” Sherikov agreed. “
Instead of taking over an antiquated Empire, we have the entire cosmos to map and explore, God’s total creation.
”
An intuition more in his hands than in his head. A kind of genius, such as a painter or a pianist has.
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“Thomas Cole is a strange person,” Sherikov said, half to himself. “Apparently he has a kind of intuition about machines, the way things are supposed to work.
An intuition more in his hands than in his head. A kind of genius, such as a painter or a pianist has.
Not a scientist. He has no verbal knowledge about things, no semantic references. He deals with the things themselves. Directly.
Like an artist, he saw his work ahead of him.
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“Something to be fixed.
Like an artist, he saw his work ahead of him.
He was interested in only one thing: turning out the best job he could, with the skill he possessed. For us, that skill has opened up a whole universe, endless galaxies and systems to explore. Worlds without end. Unlimited, untouched worlds.”
Beyond the Door
Never satisfied. They’re all that way. Never get enough.
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He watched in amazement as she leaped up and ran from the room, still clutching the clock. He shook his head. “
Never satisfied. They’re all that way. Never get enough.
”
Larry and the cuckoo clock really never got along well from the start.
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Then she went downstairs again, slowly, her head high.
Larry and the cuckoo clock really never got along well from the start.
Doris said it was because he didn’t wind it right, and it didn’t like being only half-wound all the time. Larry turned the job of winding over to her;
We all have to do things we don’t like.
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“All right, if that’s the way you feel,” Larry murmured, his lips twisting. “But it isn’t fair. It’s your job to come out.
We all have to do things we don’t like.
”
The Crystal Crypt
A salesman always has to carry something to show.
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Thacher smiled. “I knew it! You get so you can always spot a salesman right off by his sample case.
A salesman always has to carry something to show.
What are you in, sir?”
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