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Ugly bags of mostly water, we try at peace. You still do not listen.
Somewhere beneath their feet lay the wreckage of an aircraft or missile, embobbled by the Peace Authority when they put down the national armies of the world.
One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel.
Eckhart saw Hell, too. You know what he said? He said: The only thing that burns in Hell is the part of you that won’t let go of life – your memories, your attachments. They burn them all away. But they’re not punishing you, he said. They’re freeing your soul. So the way he sees it, if you’re frightened of dying and you’re holding on, you’ll see devils tearing your life away. But if you’ve made your peace, then the devils are really angels, freeing you from the earth. It’s just a matter of how you look at it, that’s all.
What’s a giant eye going to do, pick you up and wink you to death?
Trollenberg, home of the Crawling Eye. All stops lead to a bloody death.
Like most policemen, Landsman sails double-hulled against tragedy, stabilized against heave and storm. It’s the shallows he has to worry about, the hairline fissures, the little freaks of torque.
The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallow subcategory. He’s got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books.
Years ago the Kaled government decided to form an Elite group.
Pac-Man’s always been faster than the ghost. We’re gonna have to outmaneuver.
A ghost planet?
I suggest no supernatural explanation, Captain. I merely point out that the facts do not fit any known categories of planets.
Spaaaaace Ghoooost!
Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise, whose five-year mission is to seek out new life, new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.
I just wanted to tell you that I thought a lot about what you said.
“Well, thank you very much, Mr.—”
“To pronounce it correctly, I would have to pull out your tongue.”
I’m afraid you couldn’t pronounce the Vulcan name.
Can you ?
After a fashion, and after many years of practice.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
I beg your pardon?
Oh. Hello! Sorry to burst in on you like this. Okay if we stop here for a bit?