David Brin

“After all,” he muttered, “what can they do to shake the confidence of a fellow who’s got delusions of adequacy?”

There were times when Robert actually envied his ancestors, who had lived in dark ignorance, before the twenty-first century, and seemed to have spent most of their time making up weird, ornate explanations of the world to fill the yawning gap of their ignorance. Back then, one could believe in anything at all.

Simple, deliciously elegant explanations of human behavior—it apparently never mattered whether they were true or not, as long as they were incanted right. "Party lines" and wonderful conspiracy theories abounded. You could even believe in your own sainthood if you wanted. Nobody was there to show you, with clear experimental proof, that there was no easy answer, no magic bullet, no philosopher's stone. Only simple, boring sanity.

How narrow the Golden Age looked in retrospect.

It’s clear that male human beings should never have been left in control of the world all these centuries. Many of you are wonderful beyond belief, but too many others will always be bloody lunatics.

Your sex is simply built that way. Its better side gave us power and light, science and reason, medicine and philosophy. Meanwhile the dark half spent its time dreaming up unimaginable hells and putting them into practice.

He wasn’t afraid of dying, only of having not done all he could, and not properly spitting in the eye of death when it came for him. That final gesture was important.

“Where there is mind, there is always solution,” Keneenk taught. All problems contained the elements of their answer.

All legends must be based on lies, Gordon realized. We exaggerate, and even come to believe the tales, after a while.

What point was there in pursuing an ever-elusive popularity?

He managed to lie by implication while speaking words that were the literal truth, a skill he had grown good at, if not proud of.

Of course we can establish constitutional checks and balances, but those won’t mean a thing unless citizens make sure the safeguards are taken seriously. The greedy and the power-hungry will always look for ways to break the rules, or twist them to their advantage.

A sane being wished for peace and serenity, not to be the mortar in which the ingredients of destiny are finely ground.

Words penetrated the tank from the outer room. They were tantalizing, like those ghosts of meaning in a great symphony—hinting that the composer had caught a glimpse of something notes could only vaguely convey and words could never even approach.

It was better to imagine a sacrifice being for something.