quote:

"You know Riddley, theres something in us, it don't have no name. (...) We aint a naturel part of it. We dint begin when it begun we dint begin where it begun. It ben here before nor I don't know what we are to it. May be weare jus only sickness and a fever to it or boyls on the arse of it I dont know. Now lissen what Im going to tel you Riddley. It thinks us but it dont like us. It dont think the way we think. Plus like I said before its afeart."
I said, "Whats it afeart of?"
She said, "It's afeart of being beartht."

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"We do not dream, we are dreamed. We "suffer" the dream, we are its objects."

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"They're trying to kill me", Yossarian told him calmly.
"No one's trying to kill you", Clevinger cried.
"Then why are they shooting at me?"
They're shooting at everyone", Clevinger answered. "They're trying to kill everyone."
"And what difference does that make?"

quote:

He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Lyanna in her bed of blood.

In the dream his friends rode with him, as they had in life, Martyn Cassel, Jory's father; faithful Theo Wull; Ethan Glover, who had been his brother Brandon's squire; Ser Mark Ryswell, soft of speech and gentle of heart; the crannogman, Howland Reed; and Lord Dustin on his great red stallion. Ned had known their faces as well as he knew his own once, but the years leech at a man's memories, even those he has vowed never to forget. In the dream they were only shadows, grey wraiths on horses made of mist.

They were seven, facing three. In the dream as it had been in life. Yet these were no ordinary three, They waited before the round tower, the red mountains of Dorne at their backs, their white cloaks blowing in the wind. These were no shadows, their faces burned clear, even now. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, had a sad smile on his lips. The hilt of his greatsword Dawn poked up over his right shoulder. Ser Oswell When was on one knee, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. Across his white enameled helm, the black bat of his House spread its wings. Between them stood fierce old Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

"I looked for you on the Trident," Ned said to them.

"We were not there," Ser Gerold answered.

"Woe to the Usurper if we had been," added Ser Oswell.

"When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were."

"Far away," Ser Gerold said, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells."

"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege," Ned told them, "and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them."

"Our knees do not bend easily," said Ser Arthur Dayne.

"Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him."

"Ser Willem is a good man, and true," said Ser Oswell.

"But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out. "The Kingsguard does not flee."

"Then, or now," said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.

"We swore a vow," explained old Ser Gerold.

Ned's wraiths moved up beside him, shadow swords in their hands. They were seven against three. "And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

"No," said Ned with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends."

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"Prince Rhaegar led free men into battle, not slaves. Whitebeard said he dubbed his squires himself, and made many other knights as well."

"There was no higher honor than to receive your knighthood from the Prince of Dragonstone."

"Tell me then - when he touched a man on the shoulder with his sword, what did he say? 'Go forth and kill the weak'? Or 'Go forth and defend them'? At the Trident, those brave men Viserys spoke of who died beneath our dragon banners - did they give their lives because they believed in Rhaegar's cause or because they had been bought and paid for?" Dany turned to Mormont, crossed her arms, and waited for an answer.

"My lady," the big man said slowly, "all you say is true. But Rhaegar lost on the Trident. He lost the battle, he lost the war, he lost the kingdom, and he lost his life. His blood swirled downriver with the rubies from his breastplate, and Robert the Usurper rode over his corpse to steal the Iron Throne. Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died."

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If there were no pain, if there were no fear, then what does it matter that we live together, that our lives touch? If our actions have no consequences, then we might as well die, all of us, because we are just machines, contented machines, well oiled and running smoothly with no need to think, nothing to value, because there are no problems to solve and nothing we can lose

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Thus he died, and all the life struggled out of him. And as he died, he spattered me with the dark red and violent-driven rain of bitter-savored blood, to make me glad, as gardens stand among the showers of God in glory at the birthtime of the buds.

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"I mean," she said, "that one can't help growing older".
"One can't perhaps," said Humpty Dumpty, "but two can. With proper assistance, you might have left off at seven."

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"I want a small pizza and a bottle of beer," I explained to the boyish voice on the end of the other line. "But no cheese. Can you give me a small pizza with no cheese?"

"That's unusual," said the voice. "Let me check. I'll put you on hold."

He came back. "One small pizza, no cheese. Any specials?"

"Specials?"

"Special aspects, you know. Things. Mushrooms, garlic, pineapple."

"Mushrooms."

"Just one? You get a discount if you get three."

I thought about it. "What if we consider no cheese a special?"

"Um, okay. So let's see, that's one small pizza, mushrooms, no cheese. Pick one more."

"How about no pineapple?"

There was a long pause. "Let me check."

"Forget it," I said when he came back. "I don't want a pizza. No cheese was the giveaway. Can you just bring me the beer? Talking about pizza made me thirsty."

"I don't think I can do that, sir. I think just beer is against the rules,and it might even be illegal. I might get fired or arrested."

"Check," I said. "Put me on hold."

"I think I'll do that, sir."

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"I'm not sure that I really exist, except under your observation."

She didn't say anything.

"If you left me," I said, "you'd take so much of me with you that I'd be inside you, looking back at what was left -- the husk of Philip Engstrand we'd abandoned."

She stared at me across the pillow. "That's actually beautiful," she said.

"So when Ifeel distance between us it's like there's something wrong between me and myself. I feel a fulf in myself."

Alice closed her eyes. "Nothing's wrong," she said.

"No?" I said.

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"Well, what we called a computer in 1977 was really a kind of electric abacus, but..."
"Oh, now, don't underestimate the abacus," said Reg. "In skilled hands it's a very sophisticated calculating device. Furthermore it requires no power, can be made with any materials you have to hand, and never goes bing in the middle of an important piece of work."
"So an electric one would be particularly pointless," said Richard.
"True enough," conceded Reg.
"There really wasn't a lot this machine could do that you couldn't do yourself in half the time with a lot less trouble," said Richard "but it was, on the other hand, very good at being a slow and dim-witted pupil."
Reg looked at him quizzically.
"I had no idea they were supposed to be in short supply," he said. "I could hit a dozen with a bread roll from where I'm sitting."
"I'm sure. But look at it this way. What really is the point of trying to teach anything to anybody?"
This question seemed to provoke a murmur of sympathetic approval from up and down the table.
Richard continued, "What I mean is that if you really want to understand something, the best way is to try and explain it to someone else. That forces you to sort it out in your own mind. And the more slow and dim-witted your pupil, the more you have to break things down into simpler ideas. And that's really the essence of programming. By the time you've sorted out a complicated idea into little steps that even a stupid machine can deal with, you've certainly learned something about it yourself. The teacher usually learns more than the pupil. Isn't that true?"

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'I'm sorry about lucas , man. He was... He was a dude.'

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The almond-eyed waiter was trying to hide a smirk when he brought Renner's main course. The dish was conspicuous, a shallow bowl over a foot across and five inches high. Customers at other tables broke off conversation to watch as he set it in front of Renner.
The creatures in the bowl might have been four legged crabs. Their sides pulsed. Renner remembered reading that they were land creatures. They could almost reach the rim before they dropped back. Their eyes were locked on Renner as they climbed towards him. They looked hungry and determined.
"Pick up the crottling fork," Belinda whispered. "The two-pronged fork. use your thumb and two fingers."
It was sitting beside the bowl. Renner picked it up. Belinda whispered, "Stab just behind the head plate. Do it hard enough to set the prongs. You don't want it to drop off.
Hesitating was bad: the greeps would move. You couldn't blame them.Renner stabbed one and lifted the fork. Belinda said, "Scrape it off on the edge. You didn't stab hard enough. They bite."
Renner scraped it off and tried another. The beasts weren't fast, but it wasn't easy to center the fork. He stabbed.
"Good. Pick it up. Your left hand takes the tail. Pull hard."
Renner pulled. The exoskeletal tale came right off, exposing two inches of pale meat.
All eyes were on Renner, to watch him make a fool of himself. The naked tail writhed. Renner felt like a murderer. He said "So, wretched sand dweller! Now will you tell us about your troop movements?"