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Dystopia Quotes

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Dystopia Quotes

“Perfect crime,' he said softly. 'Yes?' 'Persuade an innocent, idealistic young girl that the future of the human race depends on her sacrificing her own life. She will come into hospital as trustingly as a lamb to the slaughter. She will welcome the implantation of a baby that will kill her. She'll lie there while her brain is destroyed for nine whole months, and no police will arrest you, no court will judge you, you'll get away scot free. At the end of nine months she'll be taken off life support and she'll be completely dead. And no one will be blamed.”

SacrificeDystopiaPerfect Crime
Book:The Testament of Jessie Lamb
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“Not many people traveled this close to the Blackened Forest—a vast swath of the Rockies where the trees were black as soot and hard as stone, petrified for all eternity, frozen in time—but those that did were precisely the kind you’d expect in this hostile world: calloused, alone, and harboring a death wish. Most importantly, however, it was home to dozens of contract Slayer teams, one of which she was here to find.”

ActionSci FiDystopiaStrong FemaleMutantsSharp Shooter
Author:Aaron J Webber
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“There were nights in the city, in the academy, and even nights alone in his apartment, Grayson thought he was immersed in the darkness. But as he looked back, not even the sun's rays pierced through the flora before them. It was nothing like those nights where he tried to figure out his sense of place amongst a world unabashed in its desire to use him.”

ActionAdventureSci FiDystopia
Book:Nomad's Pursuit: Into The Savage Book 1
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“The pitter patter of the rain raps against the jungle rock. No thunder, just a soft drizzle. Elena gazes out from her hood into the Mega City ruins, lost and forgotten, reclaimed by overgrowing foliage. Leaves battered by raindrops rustle around her. Soon I will have to go without him, she thinks. Hidden eyes seem to watch her, then she remembers her brother’s words: Never hunt alone, especially at night.”

ActionSci FiDystopiaIllustrated Books
Book:sparrows
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“Money, money, money. You PC pricks are all about the money, aren't you?" Jensen frowned at the casual way she lumped him in with the rest of the bastards who worked for the Planetary Council. Which he technically also did. But it wasn't like he'd had a choice. One didn't turn down becoming a shadow agent. Not if you wanted to keep on breathing.”

ActionSci FiDystopiaSpecial AgentBar Fights
Book:Short Tales from Earth's Final Chapter, Volume 1, Book 3
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“Our Dome is the bottom of the barrel in the Mega City," Asterion said. "The Deep, it's beneath the bottom. Patrols don't even come down yonder no more. This here is where the forgotten live." "That's pretty deep from a guy that talks as funny as you do." I said quietly. "It's not polite to make fun of a man's drawl," he said. I nodded. "You've told me that before too," I said. I still got no idea what 'drawl' even means and have never heard anyone else say it. I'm thinking you made it up." Asterion shook his head. "Y'all never heard of Texas either," he said. "Goes to show what you know." I grinned. "That sounds made up too." He shook his head in disgust. "Don't make no different anyhow," he said, as much to himself as to me. "They say half of it is underwater now anyway.”

ActionFutureWittyResistanceSci FiDystopiaPrivate Investigator
Book:Short Tales from Earth's Final Chapter: Book 4
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“Crager hold the key to our city's survival. Ensign, I know you've never been tested out in the field. We need a sample. He's a monster, son. Something morphed and mutated. He's a nomad running amok in the world with nothing tethering him to civilization. It's asking a lot, but we need you." Grayson heard his mother's voice”

ActionAdventureDystopiaMutantsMonsters Of Men
Book:Nomad's Pursuit: Into The Savage Book 1
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“My uncle says the architects got rid of the front porches because they didn't look well. But my uncle says that was merely rationalizing it; the real reason, hidden underneath, might be they didn't want people sitting like that, doing nothing, rocking, talking; that was the wrong kind of social life. People talked too much. And they had time to think. So they ran off with the porches. And the gardens, too. Not many gardens any more to sit around in. And look at the furniture. No rocking?chairs any more. They're too comfortable. Get people up and running around. My uncle says . . . and . . . my uncle . . . and . . . my uncle . . .”

ThinkingPhilosophyKnowledgeThoughtCensorshipDystopiaDystopian Fiction
Book:Fahrenheit 451
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“But if you knew about this…conspiracy, why did you cooperate with it? Why did you allow Hae-Joo Im to get so close to you? Why does any martyr cooperate with his judases? Tell me. We see a game beyond the endgame… But to what end? Some future…revolution? It can never succeed. As Seneca warned Nero: No matter how many of us you kill, you will never kill your successor.”

PurposeRevolutionBetrayalConspiracyMartyrDystopia
Book:Cloud Atlas
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“An Orwellian world is much easier to recognize, and to oppose, than a Huxleyan. Everything in our background has prepared us to know and resist a prison when the gates begin to close around us. We are not likely, for example, to be indifferent to the voices of the Sakharovs and the Timmermans and the Walesas. We take arms against such a sea of troubles, buttressed by the spirit of Milton, Bacon, Voltaire, Goethe and Jefferson. But what if there are no cries of anguish to be heard? Who is prepared to take arms against a sea of amusements? To whom do we complain, and when, and in what tone of voice, when serious discourse dissolves into giggles? What is the antidote to a culture’s being drained by laughter? I fear that our philosophers have given us no guidance in this matter.”

MediaLaughterAmusementDystopiaHedonismHuxleyOrwellPolitical DiscourseCulture CritiqueInfotainment
Book:Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business
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“Every time I do an interview people ask similar questions, such as "What is the most significant story that you have revealed?" […] There really is only one overarching point that all of these stories have revealed, and that is–and I say this without the slightest bit of hyperbole or melodrama; it's not metaphorical and it's not figurative; it is literally true–that the goal of the NSA and it's five eyes partners in the English speaking world–Canada, New Zealand, Australia and especially the UK–is to eliminate privacy globally, to ensure that there could be no human communications that occur electronically, that evades their surveillance net; they want to make sure that all forms of human communications by telephone or by Internet, and all online activities are collected, monitored, stored and analyzed by that agency and by their allies. That means, to describe that is to describe a ubiquitous surveillance state; you don't need hyperbole to make that claim, and you do not need to believe me when I say that that's their goal. Document after document within the archive that Edward Snowden provided us declare that to be their goal. They are obsessed with searching out any small little premise of the planet where some form of communications might take place without they being able to invade it.”

DemocracyPrivacyAmerican PoliticsTotalitarianismSurveillanceEspionageAuthoritarianismDystopiaNsaBritish PoliticsSurveillance SocietyInternet PrivacyEdward SnowdenCanadian PoliticsAustralian PoliticsNew Zealand Politics
Author:Glenn Greenwald
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“As melancholia replaced the jarring of my invention, I sat. Unable to breathe in the smog I had created, unable to stand on my betraying legs, unable to howl at the heavens over my sordid soul. In this inferno, I became paroxysmic, my self-hatred, superparamount, numbness dulling the agony of such a devilish act, An iron curtain fell upon the surrounding world, or at least what I had left of it to be owned by the laconic eclipse. All the angels fled, disowning my prayers, the lurid world backed away, leaving me forsaken and detached, I could no longer hear the bombings, hear them fall, my own fabrication, only the dead air that came after, the intense silence. Cynical and paralyzed, I realized I had purloined a portion of Hell and given it to the unwilling Earth, Punishing those I had no right to punish, judging those I had no reason to condemn, destroying cities I had never set foot in. This is how I became Death, the destroyer of Worlds.”

WarDeathPoetryDarkHorrorDepressionChaosBombingDystopia
Author:Moonshine Noire
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“The collective sign of relief heaved on V-J Day ought to have inspired Hollywood to release a flood of "happily ever after" films. But some victors didn't feel too good about their spoils. They'd seen too much by then. Too much warfare, too much poverty, too much greed, all in the service of rapacious progress. A bundle of unfinished business lingered from the Depression — nagging questions about ingrained venality, mean human nature, and the way unchecked urban growth threw society dangerously out of whack. Writers and directors responded by delivering gritty, bitter dramas that slapped our romantic illusions in the face and put the boot to the throat of the smug bourgeoisie. Still, plenty of us took it — and liked it.”

FilmClassicWwiiDystopiaBourgeoisieFilm NoirPost Wwii
Book:Dark City: The Lost World of Film Noir
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“I guess that's how they were able to do it, in the way they did it, all at once, without anyone knowing beforehand. If there had still been portable money, it would have been more difficult. It was after the catastrophe, when they shot the president and machine-gunned the Congress and the army declared a state of emergency. They blamed it on the Islamic fanatics at the time. I was stunned. Everyone was, I know that. It was hard to believe, the entire government gone like that. How did they get in, how did it happen? That was when they suspended the Constitution. They said it would be temporary. There wasn't even any rioting in the streets. People stayed home at night, watching television, looking for some direction. There wasn't even an enemy you could put your finger on.”

AmericaWomens RightsDystopiaCoup D éTatDisenfranchisement
Book:The Handmaid’s Tale
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“This war ends, then so do the taxpayer-funded contracts, the drumbeats in the media, the nice Combatant faces, and the patriotic cause to lull the civilians and shame the dissenters. The other thing that comes to an end is all the justification for why this country's run the way it is. People will wonder why their paychecks are still getting halved to pay off the men who own their utility companies, their roads, their national parks. They'll wonder why they've got to work eighty-hour weeks to support the folks who took their houses and destroyed the middle-class jobs. There's not going to be an enemy to point a finger at anymore. People will see the real problem.”

WarInjusticeDystopiaScapegoatClass SystemSocial Politics
Author:S. J. Kincaid
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“They lived in a world of destruction and fortuitous death. All was chance, and it was not even the Devil who threw the dice, for he was part of the fairy-tale and perished with it. It had hardly been worth while to pick a bone with it, for the only thing to quarrel with was one's own credulity in having ever believed a tale that broke down at so many points when put to the test. Year by year boys fresh from school joined in the dance of death, and sweltered in the reeking, stinking heat, when they should have been playing cricket or swimming in cool waters, and they got trench-fever and were gassed, and young limbs swift to run and ripe for love were gashed by bullets and sawn off in hospitals. The fate of the world rested on their shoulders: they were the bewildered scapegoats who were driven out into this desert of death, to expiate the criminal pride and folly of those who had been in charge of world-affairs while they were yet unbreeched. Save for rare moments of panic, they maintained a cheerful carelessness, a studied unconsciousness of the surrounding horror, for to think about it, to realize it and speak of it was to go mad. A few went mad, and with bandaged eyes awaited the volley they would never hear. The rest carried on, dumb and gallant, saying nothing, except in a few blurted words to a friend, of that smouldering focus of resentment and despair.”

DystopiaDisillusionmentBritish EmpireWorld War 1The Great WarBright Young ThingsLost Generation Quotes
Book:As We Are
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“Rand, Huxley, Orwell, and Bradbury foresaw much of today’s dystopian world: its spiritual and moral emptiness, its culture of consumerism, its flat-souled Last Manishness, its debasement of language, its doublethink, its illiteracy, and its bovine tolerance of authoritarian indignities. But they did not foresee the most serious and catastrophic of today’s problems: the eminent destruction of whites, and western culture. None of them thought to deal with race at all. Why is this? Probably for the simple reason that it never occurred to any of them that whites might take slave morality so far as to actually will their own destruction. As always, the truth is stranger than fiction.”

DystopianDystopiaGeorge Orwell1984Ray BradburyAyn RandWhite GenocideAldous HuxleyDoublethinkThe Last ManSlave Morality
Author:Jef Costello
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“Even though we don't know which companies the NSA has compromised – or by what means – knowing that they could have compromised any of them is enough to make us mistrustful of all of them. This is going to make it hard for large companies like Google and Microsoft to get back the trust they lost. Even if they succeed in limiting government surveillance. Even if they succeed in improving their own internal security. The best they'll be able to say is: "We have secured ourselves from the NSA, except for the parts that we either don't know about or can't talk about.”

LibertyTechnologyPrivacyGoogleSurveillanceMicrosoftEspionageDystopiaNsaCryptographySurveillance SocietyInternet PrivacyEdward SnowdenInternet Security
Author:Bruce Schneier
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“That done, a second list began to sketch itself from memory. Food, water, containers, blankets... I set three piles aside, starting with the blankets, then took what pillowcases I could find. They always made useful bags for carrying things when backpacks weren't available. One small pot for boiling, one small pan for cooking or additional self-defense. Knives, always good. One fork and a spoon for each of us. More than that, and they'd clatter inside our bags, keeping us from moving silently. No batteries. One flashlight that seemed to be working for now, even if the beam wasn't strong. The real coup would have been canned food or toilet paper, but those were truly one-in-a-million finds. "Did you forget to tell us that you're taking us camping?" I'm all four roughing it as long as that entails air-conditioning and a nice view." ... "Sorry," I muttered, forcing myself onto my feet. "Old habits.”

CriminalsRunning AwayDystopiaPg 146Roughing ItBut Are They ThoughDont Get Any IdeasMessed Up SystemOkthisiswaytoomanytagsbye
Book:Never Fade
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“He sat for some time, meditatively frowning, then picked up his pen and wrote across the title-page: "The author's mathematical treatment of the conception of purpose is novel and highly ingenious, but heretical and, so far as the present social order is concerned, dangerous and potentially subversive. Not to be published." He underlined the words. "The author will be kept under supervision. His transference to the Marine Biological Station of St. Helena may become necessary." A pity, he thought, as he signed his name. It was a masterly piece of work. But once you began admitting explanations in terms of purpose–well, you didn't know what the result might be. It was the sort of idea that might easily decondition the more unsettled minds among the higher castes–make them lose their faith in happiness as the Sovereign Good and take to believing, instead, that the goal was somewhere beyond, somewhere outside the present human sphere, that the purpose of life was not the maintenance of well-being, but some intensification and refining of consciousness, some enlargement of knowledge. Which was, the Controller reflected, quite possibly true. But not, in the present circumstance, admissible. He picked up his pen again, and under the words "Not to be published" drew a second line, thicker and blacker than the first; then sighed, "What fun it would be," he thought, "if one didn't have to think about happiness!”

Purpose Of LifeCensorshipConditioningDystopiaBrainwashingFreespeech
Author:Aldous Huxley
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“Day by day, however, the machines are gaining ground upon us; day by day we are becoming more subservient to them; more men are daily bound down as slaves to tend them, more men are daily devoting the energies of their whole lives to the development of mechanical life. The upshot is simply a question of time, but that the time will come when the machines will hold the real supremacy over the world and its inhabitants is what no person of a truly philosophic mind can for a moment question.”

MachinesScience FictionArtificial IntelligenceDystopiaTechnology AddictionTechnological ProgressFuture PredictionTechnological EvolutionLuddism
Book:Darwin Among The Machines
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