Hugh Howey Quotes

Killing a man should be harder than waving a length of pipe in their direction. It should take long enough for one's conscience to get in the way.

Even in the darkness, his smile threw shadows.

It was the hubris of each generation to think this anew, to think that their time was special, that all things would come to an end with them.

Sometimes a thing needed opening before closure was found.

Fiction challenges us and works its miracles by placing us in the skin of another human being and teaching us empathy.

Ever since I was twelve, I dreamed of being an author. I just never had the fortitude to see any of my stories through to completion. I would start a book, get a few chapters in, and grow bored or get distracted by something else.

The best kisses in the world take place at night, in the ocean, with two naked bodies coiled around one another, only the stars to keep them company.

He’d only ever seen a gun once, a smaller one on the hip of that old deputy, a gun he’d always figured was more for show. He stuffed a fistful of deadly rounds in his pocket, thinking how each one could end an individual life, and understanding why such things were forbidden. Killing a man should be harder than waving a length of pipe in their direction. It should take long enough for one’s conscience to get in the way.

It’s easy to forgo distractions and to not accumulate things when you have a larger goal on the horizon.

I'd rather excite the imagination of a legion of readers and make pennies from each of them than hold off for a larger chunk of change from only a handful of fans.

"What we control," Juliette said, "is our actions once fate puts us there."

My life is too tight, he wanted to say. My skin is too tight. The walls are too tight.

There were certain things, learned so young and remembered so deep that they felt like little stones in the center of her mind.

It turned out that some crooked things looked even worse when straightened. Some tangled knots only made sense once unraveled.

My only wish is that we leave room for hope. There is good and bad in all things. We find what we expect to find. We see what we expect to see. I have learned that if I tilt my head just right and squint, the world outside is beautiful. The future is bright. There are good things to come.

I'm coming for you. I'm coming home, I'm coming to clean

We are not the people who made this world, Lukas, but it's up to us to survive it. You need to understand that." "We can't control where we are right now," he mumbled, "just what we do going forward.

When there’s only God to blame, we forgive him. When it’s our fellow man, we destroy him.

I use social media not to ask new people to like my stuff. I use social media to connect with that one reader who likes my stuff.

Statistics were magic like this: they could tell you with near-certainty that a thing would occur, without a hint of when or where.

I am about to die. It is September 11, and every cell in my body is acutely aware of my looming demise. The certainty of it. The inevitability. Not years from now, not weeks nor days. Moments.

We devolve into animals when we creep near to death.

A seed of hope caught a taste of moisture. Some wishful kernel buried deep, where he was loathe to acknowledge it lest it poison or choke him, began to sprout.

Run, we think, as buildings crumble. Run, as people perish.

Living frugally is one of the best things an author can do to prepare for their career.

Evan Price is not a man to be questioned. He is a man who will question you.

That's the problem with the truth," Darcy said. "Liars and honest men both claim to have it.

some things are better off back in the past. Where they belong.

Imagine the first discovery that one of these epidemics was man-made—the panic, the violence that would ensue. That’s where the end would come. A typhoon kills a few hundred people, does a few billion in damage, and what do we do?” Erskine interlocked his fingers. “We come together. We put the pieces back. But a terrorist’s bomb.” He frowned. “A terrorist’s bomb does the same damage, and it throws the world into turmoil.” He spread his hands apart like an explosion going off. “When there’s only God to blame, we forgive him. When it’s our fellow man, we must destroy him.

He thought of men like Hitler, Stalin, and Napoleon. All it took was a lot of seemingly decent people to put the wrong person in power and then fall under their spell.

Heroes didn't win. The heroes were whoever happened to win. History told their story -- the dead didn't say a word. All of it was bullshit.

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One of the many things that surprised me about Wool is how many of its fans don't consider themselves science fiction readers.

There are two competing philosophies in Wool: one is that people have to live under an iron thumb in order to survive, and the other one is that everyone should live completely freely and happily and everything will sort itself out.

Predict the inevitable", she said, "and you're bound to be right one day.

It was a sad loss, this illusion of importance, a humbling blow.