If I write something set 60 years in the future, I am going to have to explain how humanity got there, and… — William Gibson Copy Share Image
“She’s spoken with Parkaboy twice before, and both times it’s been odd, in the way that initial telephone conversations with people you’ve… — William Gibson Copy Share Image
“At another time she asked,'what is a soul?' ' No one knows,'I replied; 'but we know it is not the body, and… — William Gibson Copy Share Image
We're living in a future that's weirder than anybody except possibly. — William Gibson Copy Share Image
We have no future because our present is too volatile. We have only risk management. The spinning of the given moment's scenarios.… — William Gibson Copy Share Image
The past is past, the future unformed. There is only the moment, and that is where he prefers to be. — William Gibson Copy Share Image
He'd been numb a long time, years. All his nights down Ninsei, his nights with Linda, numb in bed and numb at… — William Gibson Copy Share Image
“Time moves in one direction, memory another. We are that strange species that constructs artifacts intended to counter the natural flow of… — William Gibson Copy Share Image
There are bits of the literal future right here, right now, if you know how to look for them. — 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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
Fiction is an illusion wrought with many small, conventionally symbolic marks, triggering visions in the minds of others — William Gibson Copy Share Image
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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
