Quote by William Gibson Download Open image ““Zion smelled of cooked vegetables, humanity, and ganja.”” — William Gibson ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 4.1 out of 5 (7 ratings) Copy quoteShare
“And yet, Zion has risen up again out of the crematoria and the slaughterhouses.” — François Mauriac Copy Share Image
“What message may I take from you to the young people in Zion?" The answer was quick and positive. "Tell them," said the doomed… — Spencer W. Kimball Copy Share Image
“What if the possibilities of Zion were already here, and its scattered elements all about us? A child’s embrace, a companion’s caress, a friend’s… — Terryl L. Givens Copy Share Image
“The air smelled of salt and frying fish, of hot tar and honey, of incense and oil and sperm.” — George R.R. Martin Copy Share Image
“My heart in the East But the rest of me far in the West— How can I savor this life, even taste what I… — Yehuda Halevi Copy Share Image
“When my father was growing up inside the Old City of Jerusalem, he and his friends liked to trade desserts after diner.” — Naomi Shibab Nye Copy Share Image
“We parked in back and walked down the stairs with their polished brass railings, past the old-fashioned kitchen. We could see the chefs cooking.… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
“I love the smell, the lovely aroma of indulgent lushness, of people with inner peace.” — Bhuwan Thapaliya Copy Share Image
“My mother hmms and goes to the kitchen, where cupboards dug into the clay wall are filled with round fruits of orange and green,… — Olivia A. Cole Copy Share Image
“The night air moved up towards the Downs, washing over sea and orchard. I breathed it in, and thought that henceforth, loneliness would smell… — Laurie R. King Copy Share Image
“He couldn't stop smelling the air in great, deep, loud sniffs. It was so delicious. It smelled of water, and mud, and maple trees,… — Elizabeth Enright 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
