Leigh Brackett

With any luck. Stark smiled cynically. Not that he did not believe in luck. Rather, he had found it to be an uncertain ally.

— Leigh Brackett

The man who doesn’t fear, doesn’t live long. I fear everything.

— Leigh Brackett

There was a smell in the air now. The hot, close, frightening small of mob; mob excited, hungry, dreaming blood and death. The primitive in Stark knew that sweaty acridity all too well.

— Leigh Brackett

The mountains dwindled away into hills covered with a dark, stunted scrub. Beyond them the land flattened out to the horizon, a treeless immensity of white and gray-green, a spongy mossiness flecked with a million icy ponds. The wind blew, sometimes hard, sometimes harder.

— Leigh Brackett

I can’t tell you if the stories are true. Men lie without meaning to. They talk as if they had been part of a thing that happened to someone they never knew and only heard of by sixth remove.

— Leigh Brackett

“Better to make haste slowly than not at all,” said Amnir sententiously.

— Leigh Brackett

Stark did not like them. There was a touch of madness in them, born of the long dark and the too-long-held faith.

— Leigh Brackett

The Thyrans came on, as merciless as time.

— Leigh Brackett

“Aren’t you even curious?” he asked. “A million worlds out there with more wonders than I could tell you in a million years, and you don’t even want to ask a question?”

— Leigh Brackett

Under the attentiveness was fear, and something else. Anger, hate—the instinctive rejection of an intolerable truth.

— Leigh Brackett

Invisibility is a condition of godhead. If folk could see them, they would know the truth, and the Lords Protector would cease to be divine.

— Leigh Brackett