Quotes from Norman Spinrad

We shall give up the things of childhood -- gods and demons, planets and suns, guilts and regrets.

You look as if you have bitten into a turd.

Kiss me, and you'll live forever. You'll be a frog, but you'll live forever.

America was becoming the world's best-defended Third World country, and the best and the brightest were collaborating in the process.

Stay a dreamer, and you'll never have your dream; get down in the nitty-gritty, and when you get your dream you see what horseshit it was in the first place.

It ain't power that corrupts, it's the changes you put your head through getting it.

SF] was a commercial genre born in the old adventure pulp magazines of the first third of the twentieth century, aimed primarily at adolescent males, which, over the decades, in fits and starts, evolved into an intellectually credible, scientifically germane, transcendental literature without losing its popular base. Of what other literature in the history of the western world can this truly be said?

You can't make a revolutionary omelet without breaking heads.

Los Pilotos tienen un concepto muy exagerado de su propia importancia, pensó D'mahl. ¿Y en qué los convierte eso? - Tres... dos... uno... En seres humanos.

Who was really the cop-out, Jack who went and got what he needed to make his dream real, molding a Jack Barron reality to the shape of his dreams, or me, shaping dreams to the size of mundane reality

Jerry's fortune cookie said: "Tension, apprehension and dissension have begun.

Immortality—was electric-light slime reaching for the stars, and she stood poised on the brink, balanced on the razor-edge between life and death, the flickering and the eternal, the human and the immortal, sanity and the holy madness that was realer than sanity, more cogent, a path to oneness with the timeless infinite that could be hers if she had the courage to cast off her moorings to the shores of self and trust her fate to that all-forgiving sea.

The Pontiff has instructed me to convey his concern at the addition of psychedelics to the composition of the communion host in the Archdiocese of New York

I'll do you a show, Howards, you'll never believe. I'll chop you to pieces, and be alive and immortal when you're nothing but a lingering bad taste in a hundred million mouths, fried to a crisp in the electric chair, you Frankenstein axe-murderer you!