Quotes from Philip K. Dick

If you boys are psychologist types and you've been listening to my endless debriefings with Hank, what the hell is Donna's handle? How do I get next to her? I mean, how is it done? With that kind of sweet, unique, stubborn little chick?

Going after her — he felt attracted to her — Isidore said, You're from Mars.... I hope, Isidore said happily, I can help make your stay here on Earth pleasant.

The origin of the Form Destroyer is unclear; it is, for instance, not possible to declare whether (one) he was a separate entity from God from the start, uncreated by God but also self-creating, as is God, or (two) whether the Form Destroyer is an aspect of God...

Ruh, farkl? renklerdeki ???klar boyunca rasgele hareket ediyordu, her renk farkl? tür bir rahmi, farkl? bir yeniden doÄŸuÅŸu simgeliyordu. Bütün kötü rahimlerden uzak durup sonunda aç?k beyaz ????a gelmek göçmüÅŸ ruhun iÅŸiydi. Bunu Nicholas'a anlatmaya karar verdim, çünkü kafas? zaten yeterince kar???kt?.

Fat had witnessed a benign power which had invaded this world. No other term fitted it: the benign power, whatever it was, had invaded this world, like a champion ready to do battle. That terrified him but it also excited his joy because he understood what it meant. Help had come.

Still enough of us once more to build and hope and make a few simple plans.

Having nothing else to do or think about, he began to work out theoretically the life cycle of the bugs, and, with the aid of the Britannica, try to determine specifically which bugs they were.

Possibly his experience with the bounty hunter Phil Resch had altered some minute synapsis in him, had closed one neurological switch and opened another. And this perhaps had started a chain reaction.

His projected face bony and intense, Garth peered out of his booth like an aroused turtle.

I am by profession, a science fiction writer. I deal in fantasies. My life is a fantasy. Nonetheless, Gloria Knudson lies in a box in Modesto, California.

Emptiness. He saw no one, only a large chamber with pewlike rows of seats and, at the far end, a casket surrounded by flowers. Off in a small sideroom an old-fashioned reed pump organ and a few wooden folding chairs. The mortuary smelled of dust and flowers, a sweet, stale mixture that repelled him. Think of all the Iowans, the thought, who've embraced eternity in this listless room.

Bize geçmiÅŸi hat?rlamayanlar onu tekrar etmeye mahkumdur, denir, ama belki de bu daha iyidir. Belki de iyi olan tek ÅŸey budur; unutmay? baÅŸarmak.

In a society of criminals, Shaeffer offered, the innocent man goes to jail.

The tyranny of an object, he thought. It doesn't know I exist. Like the androids, it had no ability to appreciate the existence of another.

Maybe there's a machine in Berkeley that will save me, too. Perhaps my problems can be automated out of existence.

So you send other people into the camps, he thought, to get your husband out. It sounds like a typical police deal. It's probably the truth

You're a function of an impersonal cultural totality. You have no standards of your own. In the twentieth century men had personal standards of workmanship, artistic craft, pride of accomplishment, these words mean nothing to you. You have no soul.

There wasn't a sane person left in Northern California. It was time to move somewhere else.

He wondered, then, if the others who had remained on Earth experienced the void this way. Or was it peculiar to his peculiar biological identity, a freak generated by his inept sensory apparatus? Interesting question, Isidore thought. But whom could he compare notes with?

to the Bleekmen, we Earthmen may very well be hypomanic types, whizzing about at enormous velocity, expending huge amounts of energy over nothing at all.

I had a lot of fears that the universe would discover just how different I was from it.

All we know is that things happen. More accurately, God is the urging-forward force within all things, and all things (if "things" can be spoken of at all) are alive. The ontological matrix is a way in which His urging or thinking is manifested; so in that respect I think it's not time which moves forward, carrying us with it like a great tide, but that we are driven forward all of us together, animate and inanimate.

But she looked—smaller. As if something in her had dwindled away, as if she had dried up. It was almost—age. Yet not quite. Could their separation have done this much damage? He doubted it. His wife, since he had seen her last, had become frail, and he did not like this; despite his animosity he felt concern.

This rehearsal will end, the performance will end, the singers will die, eventually the last score of music will be destroyed in one wya or another; finally the name Mozart will vanish, the dust will have won. If not on this planet then another. We can evade it awhile.