Dan Simmons
Dan Simmons
Dan Simmonsis an American science fiction and horror writer. He is the author of the Hyperion Cantos and the Ilium/Olympos cycles...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth4 April 1948
CountryUnited States of America
blow reality wind
The future is like smoke from a burning forest, waiting for the wind of specific events and personal courage to blow the sparks and embers of reality this way or that.
life loss way
Life is brutal that way ... the loss of irrecoverable moments amid trivia and distraction.
flow violence needs
All violence flows from the same source ... the need for power. Power is the only true morality ... the only deathless god, and the appetite for violence is its only commandment.
life retreat
Life doesn't retreat.
forever religion endymion
If there is a true religion in the universe, it must include the truth of contact or be forever hollow.
loyalty love-is dust
In the end--when all else is dust--loyalty to those we love is all we can carry with us to the grave. Faith--true faith--was trusting in that love.
sleep good-things gravity
... all good things beyond sleep come precisely because we defy gravity while we live.
rome barbarians ruins
Barbarians, we call them, while all the while we timidly cling to our Web like Visigoths crouching in the ruins of Rome's faded glory and proclaim ourselves civilized.
revelations planets whole
The whole planet reeks of mysticism without revelation.
dream machines sometimes
Sometimes ... dreams are all that separate us from the machines.
children pain war
War must never be a condition but, rather, a temporary scourge which we suffer as a child does a fever, knowing that health follows the long night of pain and that peace is health.
dark historical afar
History viewed from the inside is always a dark, digestive mess, far different from the easily recognizable cow viewed from afar by historians.
snipers bullets poet
Words are the only bullets in truth's bandolier. And poets are the snipers.
memories lying expression
The life of a poet lies not merely in the finite language-dance of expression but in the nearly infinite combinations of perception and memory combined with the sensitivity to what is perceived and remembered.