Quotes from William Gibson

Noches que con gran cuidado eliminaste de la desordenada baraja de tu pasado

They built the first computers to crack German ice, right? Codebreakers. So there was ice before computers, you wanna look at it that way.

I can't unteach he six years of pity if you can't stand up to one tantrum.

era como si Dios revocara la ley de gravedad cuando tienes que cargar una maleta pesada por un corredor de aeropuerto de diez manzanas de largo.

But, Hubertus, Cayce offers, what if Dorothea is... Yes? He leans forward, palms flat on the table. A vicious lying cunt? Bigend giggles, a deeply alarming sound. Well, he says, we are in the business of advertising, after all. He smiles.

Somos manchas vivas de aceite empujadas por pasillos de sombra

If she made eye contact now, she'd hear his samples, directionless and at just the right volume. Then more about DESH, and more samples. She had him here for company, though, and not for a lecture. But lectures were all there was to him, aside from his iconics, which were about being blond and fine-boned and wearing clothes more beautifully than any human ever could. He knew everything there was to know about music, and nothing else at all.

Something stilled the part of him that knitted narrative, that grew the underbrush of lies in which he lived.

Case, you want the fifth socket from the left, top panel. There's adaptor plugs in the cabinet under the console. Needs Ono-Sendai twenty-point into Hitachi forty.

Nice bra." "Israeli," said Heidi. She looked around, taking in the contents of the room. "Jesus Christ," she said. "The wallpaper's like Hendrix's pants." "I think it's satin." Vertically striped, in green, burgundy, ecru, and black.

Guys, I'm gonna pretend like all of you are incapacitated or unconscious. And if none of you makes a move, I'll be leaving you to your own resources. Otherwise, this drone's detonating its onboard explosives. As the only one of us who's not physically present, I've got zero fucks to give about how that goes. Your call. [Conner]

Cyberspace. A consensual hallucination experienced daily by billions of legitimate operators, in every nation, by children being taught mathematical concepts . . . A graphic representation of data abstracted from the banks of every computer in the human system. Unthinkable complexity. Lines of light ranged in the nonspace of the mind, clusters and constellations of data. Like city lights, receding. .

Acceptance. Acceptance of the impermanence of being. And acceptance of the imperfect nature of being, or possibly the perfect nature of being, depending on how one looks at it. Acceptance that this is not a rehearsal. That this is it. (When asked what will save humanity.)

I'm afraid I don't know her," he said, with the slight wince that came when you asked him about music that had come out since his own release. This always made Chia feel sorry for him, which she knew was ridiculous.

and the sort of Italian restaurant furniture, in dark welded steel, that might have belonged to any decade of the past hundred years.

The future is here, it's just not widely distributed yet.

He did something with his mouth that approximated a grin. "Bein' followed, you." Far off, down in Nighttown, a water vendor cried his trade.

Jimmy laughed. The thing was a computer terminal, he said. It could talk. And not in a synth-voice, but with a beautiful arrangement of gears and miniature organ pipes. It was a baroque thing for anyone to have constructed, a perverse thing, because synth-voice chips cost next to nothing.

But perhaps, she thinks, this isn't a Russian meal. Perhaps it's a meal in that country without borders that Bigend strives to hail from, a meal in a world where there are no mirrors to find yourself on the other side of, all experience having been reduced, by the spectral hand of marketing, to price-point variations on the same thing.

carbon ribbon. There were

THE JAPANESE HAD already forgotten more neurosurgery than the Chinese had ever known. The black clinics of Chiba were the cutting edge, whole bodies of technique supplanted monthly, and still they couldn't repair the damage he'd suffered in that Memphis hotel.

and still he'd see the matrix in his sleep, bright lattices of logic unfolding across that colorless void. .

Not that he was unconcerned with the pain he saw in Hollis's eyes, or with the fate of her friend, but that there was some language required here that he'd never learned.

Between stations there was a gray shudder beyond the windows of the silent train. Not as of surfaces rushing past, but as if particulate matter were being vibrated there at some crucial rate, just prior to the emergence of a new order of being. Chia and Masahiko