Martha Wells Quotes

As a heartless killing machine, I was a complete failure.

I never know what to say to that. I am actually alone in my head, and that's where 90 plus percent of my problems are.

They were all so nice and it was just excruciating. I was never taking off the helmet again. I can't do even the half-assed version of this stupid job if I have to talk to humans.

But they were humans - who knows why they did anything?

That's the other problem with human security: they're allowed to give up.

I was having an emotion, and I hate that.

2.0 said I know violence isn't the solution to everything, but in this case...
In this case, yeah.

His biggest rule was that you didn't involve anyone who wasn't already playing the game. Or, as he phrased it, if you have to kill innocent bystanders, then your planning is at fault and someone should best eliminate you.

Miki said, "That's not good."

See, that? That is just annoying. That contributed nothing to the conversation and was just a pointless vocalization to make the humans comfortable.

I do like to write about characters who aren't just starting out, who have had adventures before, who have had a past they aren't that happy looking back on.

It's not going to make a very good story, in the annals of my time as sister queen." She quoted dryly, "'Then her consort jumped up and knocked the foreign queen unconscious with a kettle.

So the plan wasn't a clusterfuck, it was just circling the clusterfuck target zone, getting ready to come in for a landing.

The report was so loud Nicholas thought the guard had fired into his head. He staggered as the man's grip fell away, his hand going to his cheek. He felt the warm wetness of blood, but it wasn't his. He looked for the Gardier and saw him sprawled on the ground, one neat bullet hole in his forehead. He straightened up, reaching for a handkerchief until he remembered the damn uniform jacket had no pockets. Wiping the blood away with his hand, he said under his breath, "I knew emphasizing firearms training over deportment lessons would benefit in the long run."
His daughter moved toward him, lowering the pistol, staring.

Our females would have pulled you out of there and ripped your skin off by now," said Moon.

"And that's why we can't be friends," Stone concluded.

Octave staggered to his feet, his stick swinging back to point toward Nicholas. He felt a wave of heat and saw spellfire crackle along the length of polished wood, preparing itself for another explosive burst. Crack was moving toward Octave, but Madeline shouted, "Get back!"
Nicholas ducked, as a shot exploded behind him. Octave fell backward on the carpet and the blue lightning flared once and vanished with a sharp crackle.
Nicholas looked at Madeline. She stepped forward, holding a small double-action revolver carefully and frowning down at the corpse. He said, "I wondered what you were waiting for."
"You were in my line of fire, dear," she said, preoccupied. "But look.

I don't think I can pick apart how I was influenced by which author. But these were the authors whose books I went back to again and again when I was in high school and college, when I first started trying to write stories.

I hate having emotions about real humans instead of fake ones, it just leads to stupid moments like this.

I know that by the time I was in middle school, Andre Norton was definitely my favorite author.

I guess you can't tell a story from the point of view of something that you don't think has a point of view.

It said, The depiction is unrealistic.

(You know, just imagine everything it says in the most sarcastic tone possible.)

"There's unrealistic that takes you away from reality and unrealistic that reminds you that everybody's afraid of you.

Morane gestured them to some seats near the front, but close to the archway. Probably Nicholas's preference, in case someone threw a bomb. Or in case he decided to throw one.

And "weak" wasn't really the right word for what Shade meant. What he was trying to say was harder to express. It was giving in to feelings other people thought you were supposed to have about things that shouldn't have happened to you in the first place, but were not like the actual feelings you did have. There wasn't a word for that in Raksuran or Altanic or Kedaic or any other language Moon knew. Moon said, "It's not weak." The

Nicholas, dressed in black and trailing them like a sinister storm cloud, had a dry little preoccupied smile.

ART said, "I want an apology."
I made an obscene gesture at the ceiling with both hands. (I know ART isn't the ceiling but the humans kept looking up there like it was.)
ART said, "That was unnecessary."
In a low voice, Ratthi commented to Overse, "Anyone who thinks machine intelligences don't have emotions needs to be in this very uncomfortable room right now.

ART said, What does it want?

To kill all the humans, I answered.

I could feel ART metaphorically clutch its function. If there were no humans, there would be no crew to protect and no reason to do research and fill its databases. It said, That is irrational.

I know, I said, if the humans were dead, who would make the media? It was so outrageous, it sounded like something a human would say.

I hate caring about stuff. But apparently once you start, you can't just stop.

Moon couldn't think of anything reassuring to say. They were trapped inside a leviathan, standing in a tunnel gnawed out by giant parasites. Going blank with terror was a perfectly rational way to react, especially for a groundling.

Oh, I've no sense of self-preservation," Reynard replied easily. "That's what I depend on you for.

Anyway, there was a difference in watching media because I was safe on a transport with no one making me do anything, and watching media because I was trying not to think about all the ways I'd screwed up and what might happen next, a future that was bound to include even more creative screw-ups on my part.

The public library my parents took me to in Fort Worth had the children's section next to the SF/F section, so I was reading adult SF/F at a very young age.

I wanted to just sink into my media downloads for a while and pretend I didn't exist.

I followed here, like a good little SecUnit/killing machine

If you raise a daughter to be both independent and an excellent marksman, you have to accept the fact that your control over her actions is at an end.

I have a plan." This was true. "I just don't know whether it will actually work or not." This, unfortunately, was also true.

Why, thank you for your permission, Tremaine." Tremaine made a derisive noise, unimpressed. "Somebody's got to give you permission, if you won't give it to yourself.

Unidentified One sounded even more amused. "You had better have the weapon we were told of, or I'll take your ribs out one by one and break them in front of your little face."
I saved that for future reference. Unidentified One seemed to have gone to some trouble with the wording of that threat, it would be a shame if they never experienced it firsthand.

I thought I had one of your father, but it didn't develop." Tremaine nodded ruefully. "It's the silver nitrate in the film stock. He doesn't show up on it." Giaren stared at her blankly. "That was a joke," she added belatedly. "Oh." He sounded relieved.

The sense of urgency just wasn't there. Also, you may have noticed, I don't care.

We're cheaply produced and we suck.

I don't know why, because it's one of those things I'm not contractually obligated to care about.

Young humans can be impulsive. The trick is keeping them around long enough to become old humans.

I'm a murderbot, I don't give a crap about boats.

Not every problem can be solved by you trying to get yourself killed.