Quotes from William Gibson

The girl in 3.7 seemed engrossed in her phone. "What's she doing?" "Candy Crush Saga. Nondigital surveillance is weaponized boredom.

Neighborhoods that mainly operated at night had a way of looking a lot worse in the morning.

I had a cigarette," Case said, looking down at his white-knuckled fist. "I had a cigarette and a girl and a place to sleep. Do you hear me, you son of a bitch? You hear me?

I like it. A Silicon Valley ghost story.

Case lowered the gun. "This is the matrix. You're Wintermute.

Power, in Case's world, meant corporate power. The zaibatsus, the multinationals that shaped the course of human history, had transcended old barriers. Viewed as organisms, they had attained a kind of immortality. You couldn't kill a zaibatsu by assassinating a dozen key executives; there were others waiting to step up the ladder, assume the vacated position, access the vast banks of corporate memory.

The beggar has wrapped his legs and feet in brown paper tape, and the effect is startlingly medieval, as though someone has partially sculpted a knight from office materials. The trim calves, the tapered toes, an elegance calling out for ribbons. Above the tape, the man is a blur, a spastic scribble, his being abraded by concrete and misfortune. He has become the color of pavement, his very race in question.

Proust cookies. It was literally all he knew of Proust, though he'd once had to listen to someone's lengthy argument that Proust had either described madeleines incorrectly or been describing something else entirely.

The stranger's hand emerged, holding something that looked to Chia like a very large pair of chromeplated scissors, but then unfolded, with a series of small sharp clicks, and apparently of its own accord, into a kind of glittering, skeletal axe, its leading edge hawklike and lethal, the head behind it tapering like an icepick.

Night City wasn't there for its inhabitants, but as a deliberately unsupervised playground for technology itself.

Netherton was looking at the oversized bronze head of a bearded man, its neck having been crudely severed from whatever figure it must once have topped. "Lee," said Fearing, noting the direction of Netherton's gaze. "Robert E." The name meaning nothing to Netherton.

cry for it, cry in his sleep, and wake alone in the dark, curled in his capsule

His role in the trials over, he was unwanted in Washington. In an M Street restaurant, over asparagus crepes, the aide explained the terminal dangers involved in talking to the wrong people. Corto crushed the man's larynx with the rigid fingers of his right hand. The Congressional aide strangled, his face in an asparagus crepe, and Corto stepped out into cool Washington September.

She feels the things she herself owns as a sort of pressure. Other people's objects exert no pressure. Margot thinks that Cayce has weaned herself from materialism, is preternaturally adult, requiring no external tokens of self.

Far more creativity, today, goes into the marketing of products than into the products themselves

The watch is very old, purchased from a specialist dealer in a fortified arcade in Singapore. It is military ordnance. It speaks to the man of battles fought in another day. It reminds him that every battle will one day be as obscure, and that only the moment matters, matters absolutely. The enlightened warrior rides into battle as if to a loved one's funeral, and how could it be otherwise?

Is that why he didn't stay?" "No. He left because I no longer wanted to be in partnership with him." "You didn't? I mean, you don't?" "No." "Why?" "Because he pretends to be better at what he does than he is. I prefer people who are better at what they do than they think they are.

The whole industry wobbles along like a shopping cart with a missing wheel. You can only keep it moving if you lean on it a certain way and keep pushing, but if you stop, it tips over.

Coretti no sabía vestirse. La ropa era un lenguaje y Coretti era un tartamudo de la indumentaria.

You're too young to remember it," Verity's mother said, "but we were expecting nuclear war all the time, really, up into my early thirties. Later, all of that felt unreal. But the feeling that things became basically okay turns out to have actually been what was unreal.

A pair of predatory-looking Christian Scientists were edging toward a trio of young office techs who wore idealized holographic vaginas on their wrists, wet pink glittering under the harsh lighting. The

the World Wide Web, the test pattern for whatever will become the dominant global medium, offers us. Today, in its clumsy, larval, curiously innocent way, it offers us the opportunity to waste time, to wander aimlessly, to daydream about the countless other lives, the other people, on the far sides of however many monitors in that postgeographical meta-country we increasingly call home.

El ascensor que me esperaba para llevarme al Cielo podía ser la mejor toma de Hollywood de una caja para momias Bauhaus: un sarcófago angosto, vertical, con una tapa acrílica transparente

Money launderers, in Netherton's experience of Flynne's stub, were the sort of people least destabilized by discovering that their world was a branch of someone else's. They immediately looked for advantage in the knowledge.