Výpis citátů

       Kdesi daleko v zaostalých a nezmapovaných končinách onoho cípu Západního spirálního ramene naší Galaxie, který si rozhodně nemůže dělat nároky na módnost, leží jedno malé, bezvýznamné žluté slunce. Kolem něj zhruba ve vzdálenosti sto padesáti miliónů kilometrů obíhá naprosto zanedbatelná nepatrná modrozelená planeta, na níž formy života vzešlé z opic jsou tak úžasně primitivní, že se dosud domnívají, že digitální hodinky jsou docela šikovný nápad.
Douglas Adams - Stopařův průvodce po Galaxii

       "Forget," said the drone, "about how machine brains are actually put together; think about making a machine brain -- an electronic computer -- in the image of a human one. One might start with a few cells, as the human embryo does; these multiply, gradually establish connections. So one would continually add new components and make them relevant, even if one was to follow the exact development of one single human through the various states--the identical connectoions.
       "One would, of course, have to limit the speed of the messages transmitted down those connections to a tiny fraction of their normal electric speed, but that would not be difficult, nor would having these neurolike components act like their bilological equivalents internally, firing their own messages according to the types of signal they received; all messages according to the types of signal they received; all this could be done comparatively simply. By building up this gradual way, you could mimic exactly the development of a human brain, and you could mimic its output; just as an embryo can experience sound and touch and even light inside the womb, so you could send simillar signals to your developing electronic equivalent; you could impersonate the experience of birth, and use any degree of sensory simulation to fool this device into thinking it was feeling, touching, tasting, smelling, hearing and seeing everything your real human was (or, of course you might choose not actually to fool it, but always give it just as much genuine sensory input, and the same quality, as eht human perosnality was experiencing at any given point).
       "Now my question to you is this; where is the difference? The brain of each being works in exactly the same way as the otherl they will repspond to stimuli with a greater correspondence than one finds even between monozygotic twins; but how can one still choose to call one a conscious entity ant the other merely a machine?."
Iain M. Banks - Use of Weapons

       "Has she killed it?" Gurgeh asked. He had to raise his voice as the crowd screamed, stamping feet and beating fists on tables.
       "Na," Shohobohaum Za said, shaking his head. "The little guy's a Uhnyrchal." Za nodded down, as the woman used one hand to keep the alien's head submerged, and raised the other in triupmh in the air, glaring bright-eyed at the baying audience. "See that little black thing sticking up?"
       Gurgeh looked. There was a little black bulb poking up through the surface of the red mud. "Yes."
       "That's his dick."
       Gurgeh looked suspiciously at the other man. "How exactly is that going to help him?"
       "The Uhnyrchal can breathe through their dicks," Za said. "That guy's fine; he'll be fighting in another club tomorrow night; maybe even later this evening."
Iain M. Banks - The Player of Games

       "Either I had been put to bed, I thought, as I woke up next morning, in the wee cold room at the top of the house, or my standard drunk-person's on-board auto-pilot facility was improving with experience."
Iain Banks - The Crow Road

       "God, what did any of it matter, in the end? You lived; you died. You were as indistinguishable from a distance as one of these blades of grass, and who was to say more important? Growing, surrounded by your kin, you out-living some, some out-living you. You didn't have to adjust the scale much, either, to reduce us to the sort of distant irrelevance of this bedraggled field. The grass was lucky if it grew, was shone upon and rained upon, and was not burned, and was not pulled up by the roots, or poisoned, or buried when the ground was turned over, and some bits just happened to be on the line that humans wanted to walk on, and so got trampled, broken, pressed flat, with no malice; just effect."
Iain Banks - The Crow Road

       "Established, 1970, to burn English-influenced books in the Colonies. First Fireman: Benjamin Franklin."
       1. Answer the alarm swiftly.
       2. Start the fire swiftly.
       3. Burn everything.
       4. Report back to firehouse immediately.
       5. Stand alert for other alarms.
Ray Bradbry - Farenheit 451

       "It's flat," he said, a long time later. "City looks like a heap of baking-powder. It's gone."
       And a long time after that. "I wonder how many knew it was comming? I wonder how many were surprised?"
Ray Bradbry - Farenheit 451