Castle of Days Quotes

“It has been remarked thousands of times that Christ died under torture. Many of us have read so often that he was a “humble carpenter” that we feel a little surge of nausea on seeing the words yet again. But no one ever seems to notice that the instruments of torture were wood, nails, and a hammer; that the man who built the cross was undoubtedly a carpenter too; that the man who hammered in the nails was as much a carpenter as a soldier, as much a carpenter as a torturer. Very few seem even to have noticed that although Christ was a “humble carpenter,” the only object we are specifically told he made was not a table or a chair, but a whip.”
― Gene Wolfe, Castle of Days: Short Fiction and Essays

“From the top of the ramp he looked back and saw them go, their glasses crashing to the flagstoned paths and brick paved patios, their cigarettes dropping like poisoned fireflies. “I loved you,” the girl said. “Or at least I liked you. You’ll be gone in a moment and I can’t even ask you to kiss me, because I’m going to be sick.” “We’re still here,” John Edward told her, “both of us.” And she was gone.”
― Gene Wolfe, Castle of Days: Short Fiction and Essays

“After a moment the small man came in carrying his bag, and Forlesen’s son placed a chair close to the coffin for him and went into the bedroom. “Well, what’s it going to be,” the small man asked, “or is it going to be nothing?” “I don’t know,” Forlesen said. He was looking at the weave of the small man’s suit, the intertwining of the innumerable threads, and realizing that they constituted the universe in themselves, that they were serpents and worms and roots, the black tracks of forgotten rockets across a dark sky, the sine waves of the radiation of the cosmos. “I wish I could talk to my wife.”
― Gene Wolfe, Castle of Days: Short Fiction and Essays

“For those who have never attended a science fiction convention, masquerades are features of most of the larger ones. Awards are presented for best costume, most beautiful costume, most humorous costume, most naked lady, and so on.”
― Gene Wolfe, Castle of Days: Short Fiction and Essays

“Undines are the elemental spirits of water, the word undine being derived from unda, wave. Like all elemental spirits, they partake of the character of their element, so undines are beautiful, restless, and suffocating.”
― Gene Wolfe, Castle of Days: Short Fiction and Essays

“This, then, is the new illiteracy, the illiteracy of those who can read but don't. [...] This new illiteracy is more pernicious than the old, because unlike the old illiteracy it does not debar its victims from power and influence, although like the old illiteracy it disqualifies them for it. Those long-dead men and women who learned to read so that they might read the Bible and John Bunyan would tell us that pride is the greatest of all sins, the father of sin. And the victims of the new illiteracy are proud of it. If you don't believe me, talk to them and see with what pride they trumpet their utter ignorance of any book you care to name.”
― Gene Wolfe, Castle of Days: Short Fiction and Essays

“Senator, who’s the better farmer, the man who hitches up his tractor and runs it until it breaks or the man who oils and services it and lets it cool off if the engine overheats? And who gets more plowing done in the long run? These men and women who have lived half their lives in loneliness are often thrown off balance temporarily when they finally find someone with whom they can relate, I admit. Sometimes they just want to quit—to be with their new partner every hour. But eventually they come back—and when they do they’re working for something, not just to get away from something.”
― Gene Wolfe, Castle of Days: Short Fiction and Essays

“I decided that the future most in keeping with the dark figure I planned and his journey toward war was what I call the do-nothing future, the one in which humanity clings to its old home, the continents of Earth, and waits for the money to run out.”
― Gene Wolfe, Castle of Days: Short Fiction and Essays

“he imagined himself a mouse descending a clear stream in half an eggshell, the master of a comet enfolding a hollow world.”
― Gene Wolfe, Castle of Days: Short Fiction and Essays