Quotes from John Scalzi

Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to play Russian roulette with our planet's future with the bullet you've so thoughtfully provided. I hope you don't mind if I don't see you out.

To the women who are done with other people's shit

Life goes on even when Jenkins' 'Narrative' is supposed to apply.

Listen. I don't care if you ever think about the fact that you can always taste your mouth. You are always tasting your mouth. It's where you keep your tongue. Your tongue doesn't have an off switch. You are tasting your mouth right now, and now that I've brought it to your attention, you're probably realizing that you should probably brush or chew some gum or something. Because your mouth, by default, is a kind of a little off, tastewise.

This is the same Lizzie Chao who I went to high school with," Hart said. "I believe so," Isabel said. "She's married," Hart said. "She's separated," Isabel said. "Which means she's married with an option to trade up," Catherine said.

Imagine a migraine, on top of a hangover, while sitting in a kindergarten of thirty screaming children, who are all taking turns stabbing you in the eye with an ice pick.

Yes. The one advantage we had, which is a thing I brought to the enterprise, was the understanding that the plan was not the goal. The goal was the goal, and we were going to get to it however we could. And if it meant changing our plans, sometimes in the middle of executing them, then we would.

screamed the scream of the abandoned

My Schadenfreude phaser is set to Meh.

Can I just wrap up this whole line of conversation by saying I really don't give a shit whether you're upset? If you were actually hurt, or dead, then I'd say sorry. But you're not, so suck it up.

After everything, what it all means is that if one day we slip in the bathroom and crack our head on the toilet, our last thoughts can be a satisfied, 'Well, I and only I did this to myself.

Enzo showed a flair for words early and wrote his first story when he was seven, entitled The horrible sock that smelled bad and ate Pomona Falls except for my house, in which a large sock, mutated by its own horrible unwashed smell, started eating its way through the contents of an entire town and was thwarted only when the heroes Enzo and Magdy first punched it into submission and then threw it into a swimming pool filled with laundry soap.

But then he tripped and one of the land worms ate his face and he died anyway.

I have the power to call you here. As I have the power to condemn you to death. I hope we understand each other.

Is it always like this? Tayla asked. My job? Yes This is my first week on the job, I said. So, so far? Yes. How do you feel about that? Like I wish I had decided to be the typical rich kid and been a sponge on my parents, I said. You don't really mean that, Tayla said. No, I said. But at the moment I really want to feel like I did.

What is competent writing? Competent writing is writing that efficiently describes ideas and concepts to an audience, using a grammar that the audience can understand.

All right, first question. Where the fuck am I?" The person Kiva Lagos addressed sat at a small desk in a small room and appeared amused. "I thought your first question might be who the fuck am I." "All right, fine. Who the fuck are you?" "My name is Captain Robinette." "Hello, Captain Robinette. Charmed. Where the fuck am I?

Who are you and what medications aren't you taking?

No matter what, the Earth is fucked," Rigney said. "Excuse the language, but that's the gist of what I'm hearing from you.

How is it so far?" asked Cloud. "How is what so far?" "This," Cloud said, and motioned around him. "Life. The universe. Everything." "It's lonely," Jared said. "Huh," Cloud said. "Didn't take you long to figure that one out.

I strongly suggest not trying that attitude with the crew, either." "Why? Because it would be mean?" "No, because they'll break a butter knife off in your neck.

Try to be nice. And if you can't be nice, then shut the hell up and go stand in the corner with your drink and leave all the rest of us alone. Yes, yes, you're right and everyone else is wrong. That—like your immense talent—is a given. But just because you're right doesn't mean you should be a dick about it.

Traitorous, murdering garbage, from your fucking glitterdumpster of a mother on down.

I opened the door for him; he took off like a furry heat-seeking slobber missile.