Peter F. Hamilton
British science fiction author.
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Joshua was the most dynamic lover she had ever known. Gentle and domineering; it was a lethal combination. If only he wasn't quite so ruthlessly mechanical about it. A little too much of his pleasure had come from seeing her lose all control. But then that was Joshua; unwilling to share… Joshua didn't trust people.
Mockery; the righteousness of fools everywhere.
You cannot impose ideologies on people who do not embrace it wholeheartedly.
Like men in his position throughout history, Kingsley Pryor did nothing as events swept him to their conclusion; simply waiting and praying that a magical third option would spring from nowhere.
Here there was only yourself; a soul buried alive. Nothing to comfort you but your own life. Screaming from the pain of the blows which battered him down might have stopped, but the internal scream of self-loathing could never cease.
But to have dreamed the dream is to have flown above the mountains so high in all but deed.
I believe that intelligence and rationality will always be primary no matter what shape sentient creatures take. To not think that would be to doubt the value of life itself.
Faith, Quinn mused, was a strange power. They had committed their lives to the sect, never questioning its gospels. Yet in all of that time, they had the reassurance of routine… The bedrock of every religion, that your God is a promise, never to be encountered in this life, this universe.
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