quotes
But blue eyes called to blue. They had both recognized the other as having an inner self which the world at large seldom suspected; and they both shared a hidden ear for a trumpet call that passed unheard by most men and women. (Gordon Dickson, Beyond the Dar al-Harb, pg 29)
"There's nothing for me in god-houses."
Dave nodded.
"Not natural," he said, "going into a box--for something like that." (Gordon Dickson, Things Which Are Caesar's, pg 170)
"It doesn't matter," she said, to the darkness and to him.
"It always matters," said Ranald; but not as if he were answering her. He spoke out loud but absently, to himself, as if her words had pressed a button in him. "Every spring it matters fresh. Every fall it begins to matter all over again. Otherwise, I'd have given up a long time ago. But each time, every time, it starts all over again; and I start with it. Now and now." (Gordon Dickson, Things Which Are Caesar's, pg 176-177)
"After all, you're immortal."
"No," he answered. "I've only lived a long--a very long time. And that's the problem of it. I'm mortal, all men and women are mortal, the human race is mortal. That's why it makes no sense. An immortal would want to keep the eternal life he had. But people are like climbers on a cliff to high even to imagine. Each knows he can struggle up only a little distance before he dies and drops off and another climber takes his place. --Still, when a god comes winging close like some great bird, ready to carry at least some of them toward the top, they reject him--turn their heads away and insist they're alone on the cliff." (Gordon Dickson, Things Which Are Caesar's, pg 227)
"I belong to no god," said Ranald. "And no more do I belong to any people, so that their ways are a law to me. I belong, though, to myself--to Ranald; and I do not know what Ranald is going to do. It's a little thing to die after three score years and ten. To die after much longer is a hard problem. How can I be sure this moment is so worthwhile? Will it be worth all those other times before when I refused death, fought it off and said--'Not yet'?" (Gordon Dickson, Things Which Are Caesar's, pg 241)
"Gods," murmured Ranald, "mourn that you can only fly; and were not a born a human who knows what it is to climb." (Gordon Dickson, Things Which Are Caesar's, pg 252)
"There's nothing for me in god-houses."
Dave nodded.
"Not natural," he said, "going into a box--for something like that." (Gordon Dickson, Things Which Are Caesar's, pg 170)
"It doesn't matter," she said, to the darkness and to him.
"It always matters," said Ranald; but not as if he were answering her. He spoke out loud but absently, to himself, as if her words had pressed a button in him. "Every spring it matters fresh. Every fall it begins to matter all over again. Otherwise, I'd have given up a long time ago. But each time, every time, it starts all over again; and I start with it. Now and now." (Gordon Dickson, Things Which Are Caesar's, pg 176-177)
"After all, you're immortal."
"No," he answered. "I've only lived a long--a very long time. And that's the problem of it. I'm mortal, all men and women are mortal, the human race is mortal. That's why it makes no sense. An immortal would want to keep the eternal life he had. But people are like climbers on a cliff to high even to imagine. Each knows he can struggle up only a little distance before he dies and drops off and another climber takes his place. --Still, when a god comes winging close like some great bird, ready to carry at least some of them toward the top, they reject him--turn their heads away and insist they're alone on the cliff." (Gordon Dickson, Things Which Are Caesar's, pg 227)
"I belong to no god," said Ranald. "And no more do I belong to any people, so that their ways are a law to me. I belong, though, to myself--to Ranald; and I do not know what Ranald is going to do. It's a little thing to die after three score years and ten. To die after much longer is a hard problem. How can I be sure this moment is so worthwhile? Will it be worth all those other times before when I refused death, fought it off and said--'Not yet'?" (Gordon Dickson, Things Which Are Caesar's, pg 241)
"Gods," murmured Ranald, "mourn that you can only fly; and were not a born a human who knows what it is to climb." (Gordon Dickson, Things Which Are Caesar's, pg 252)