“Rain woke him, a slow drizzle, his feet tangled in coils of discarded fiberoptics. The arcade's sea of sound washed over him, receded, returned. Rolling over, he sat up and held his head.” — William Gibson Copy Share Image
“We have no idea, now, of who or what the inhabitants of our future might be. In that sense, we have no future. Not… — William Gibson Copy Share
For me, the melancholy of the late XXth Century is walking late at night by the Mont Blanc pen store and seeing these things… — William Gibson Copy Share
“No," said Blackwell, "she won't, because that would be a violation of the very personal terms I will have established in our conversation. That's… — William Gibson Copy Share
“Music was strange that way though; there were people into any damned thing, it seemed like, and if you got enough of them together… — William Gibson Copy Share
When I start writing a new imaginary future, I have no idea what it is. The characters arrive first. They help me figure out… — William Gibson Copy Share
Hollis thought he looked like William Burroughs, minus the bohemian substrate (or perhaps the methadone). Like someone who'd be invited quail shooting with the… — William Gibson Copy Share
Fiction is an illusion wrought with many small, conventionally symbolic marks, triggering visions in the minds of others — William Gibson Copy Share
I don't generate a storyline and then fill it out in the course of writing. The story actually generates in the course of the… — William Gibson Copy Share
“What happened to your arm?" she asked me one night in the Gentleman Loser, the three of us drinking at a small table in… — William Gibson Copy Share
“In Heathrow a vast chunk of memory detached itself from a blank bowl of airport sky and fell on him. He vomited into a… — William Gibson Copy Share
And, for an instant, she stared directly into those soft blue eyes and knew, with an instinctive mammalian certainty, that the exceedingly rich were… — William Gibson Copy Share
[When] Johnny Mnemonic was coming out and I realized that all the kids that worked in 7-11 knew more - or thought they knew… — William Gibson Copy Share
“Andrea maintained that men like Alain lied so constantly, so passionately, that some basic distinction had been lost. They were artists in their own… — William Gibson Copy Share
“Because he had a good agent, he had a good contract. Because he had a good contract, he was in Singapore an hour after… — William Gibson Copy Share
