Speak to me only in Science Fiction

This you knows. The years travel fast. And time after time I’ve done the Tell. But this ain 't one body’s Tell. It’s the Tell of us all. And you got to listen it and 'member. 'Cause what you hears today, you got to tell the newborn tomorrow.

I’s looking behind us now, into history back. I sees those of us that got the luck and started the haul for home. It lead us here and we was heartful 'cause we seen what there once was. One look, and we knewed we’d got it straight. Those what had gone before had knowing of things beyond our reckoning, even beyond our dreaming.

Time counts and keeps counting. And we knows now, finding the trick of what’s been and lost ain’t no easy ride. But that’s our track; we got to travel it. And there ain’t nobody knows where it’s gonna lead. Still and all, every night we does the Tell – so that we 'member who we was and where we came from.

But most of all we 'members the man who finded us – him that came the salvage. And we lights the city, not just for him, but for all of them that are still out there. 'Cause we knows there’ll come a night when they sees the distant light – and they’ll be coming home.

You are from a nation of speaking people. How glorious that must be! Our society is less fortunate.

Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturitions are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don’t.

You gotta be fuckin’ kidding.

C-3PO: [translating for R2] He says he’s found the main control to the power beam that’s holding the ship here; he’ll try to make the precise location appear on the monitor.
[a diagram of the power terminal appears on the screen]
C-3PO: The tractor beam is coupled to the main reactor in seven locations. A power loss at one of the terminals will allow the ship to leave.

Earth…but when?

It must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

It’s not customary to try the deceased, although I believe it did happen occasionally during the Time of Isolation–Lord Vorventa the Twice-Hanged springs to mind.

“If a horse’s ass can be a Count, why not the whole horse?”

The burro raised its head and put it into the circle over the shoulder of the tech sergeant. “That takes care of the puppets, Colonel,” it said.

They call themselves The Circle.

It’s a bunch of crock. They’re trying to sell sodas.

I threw the soda in his face.

That boy’s got the devil in him.

[opening his mind-meld with the Horta]

Mr. Spock: [crying] AHH! PAIN! PAIN! PAIN!

I know now why you cry. But it’s something I can never do.

Growing old doesn’t matter to you and me. We were never meant to be admired. But it does to them.

Old men only lie in wait for people to ask them to talk. Then they rattle on like a rusty elevator wheezing up a shaft.

I am the only adult here.
They have been waiting for me.
They call me father.

The Emperor has been expecting you.