Quotes from Rich Horton

I'd never been in love, because I was waiting for the silent-movie love: big eyes and violins, chattering without sound, pure. Nobody had loved right since 1926.

if we limited ourselves to good ideas, nothing of any worth would ever be accomplished.

Art is seeing the truth and revealing it, as beautifully and forcefully and honestly as you are able.

Sal didn't think in Ifs. If led to If only Macey wasn't sick, and even If only Sal's bone marrow was a match. If never did anybody any good at all.

I first met Breandan Reid ó Cuilinn in my father's Court, in Cill Cannig, on a bright cold November day.

I had three ribs stoved in once in Outremer, so I knew what was going on. I recognised the sound, and the particular sort of pain, and the not quite being able to breathe. Mostly I remember thinking: it won't hurt, because any moment now I'll be dead. Bizarrely reassuring, as if I was cheating, getting away with it. Cheating twice; once by staying alive, once by dying. This man is morally bankrupt.

Rosella screams, a short, high-pitched yelp as the Pedestrian starts tearing at her clothes. It is what he must do, as the Pedestrian, and Rosella must squeal and weep and eventually succumb to the desire his rough hands awaken in her, because deep down every woman hides a dream of being ravished by strange men.

You think there can be love without suffering? Having without losing?

It might not seem like much, but what most people don't get is that there's a world of difference between not being cruel and being kind.

On Earth, when anthropologists can't find instant meaning in any cultural artifact, they say "This obviously had deep religious significance.")

Remember how once, just once, you scored the best dope in the world? Remember how you smoked till your mouth and your throat were all sandpaper and your lungs thought you'd gone down on a fireplace? Remember how you put on your headphones—took three tries, didn't it?—and cranked Dark Side of the Moon or "The Ride of the Valkyries" or whatever most got you off all the way up to eleven, man? Remember what it was like?

My eyebrows went past my hairline. In fact, I have not located them since. I think they are hiding behind my ears.

Life is a series of moments forever sliding out of your grasp.

Which was briefly reassuring, until some biomedical statistician from the University of fucking Buzzkill went on record about the myth of the perfect failsafe,

I do not bind power, nor do I loose it.

It's like spending millions of dollars on shark patrols. In Utah.

As for Kirsten, every day made her more unhappy: she felt Jack blaming her for something but she didn't know what she'd done.

So that was Jack's passage into manhood. He was dishonest with the girl he loved. Manhood means learning who you are.

it's one thing to follow #alienmusicstories about it and another to be practicing the tricky sax solo for the rachmaninoff and see one slither through your open dorm window and re-form into elvis.

Sorry about the mess," Collingsworth said apologetically. "Sia left it shipshape last fall, but you know how it is. One turns one's back, and entropy takes over.

But alpacas don't lay eggs!

After exploring the Life-Rock for a day ("If you've seen one rock, you've seen them all"—Oud), his narrative ends two days into the return journey back to Tharsis.

For a time she had tried religion. It came in capsules, little doses of Crucifixation, sold on the streets of the old neighborhood of Central Station.

You may have heard of the one called Chute, on Mars, who wrote a novel called Waste, a metaphysical detective novel about the nature of life and waste that featured Smeg, the detective.