“off in strata of porous rock by the leathery half-plant, half-animal little makers

Frank Herbert

“She didn’t like the fact that people of both sietch and graben referred to Muad’Dib as Him.”

Frank Herbert

“My lungs taste the air of Time, Blown past falling sands…”

Frank Herbert

“Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic. —”

Frank Herbert

“Do as she says, you wormfaced, crawling, sand-brained piece of lizard turd!”

Frank Herbert

“Give as few orders as possible," his father had told him once long ago. "Once you've given orders on a subject, you must always give orders on that subject.”

Frank Herbert

“He was warrior and mystic, ogre and saint, the fox and the innocent, chivalrous, ruthless, less than a god, more than a man.”

Frank Herbert

“Ah, Hah! But you see, Baron, I know as a Mentat when you will send the executioner. You will hold back just so long as I am useful. To move sooner would be wasteful and I'm yet of much use. I know what it is you learned from that lovely Dune planet - waste not? True, Baron?

Frank Herbert

“There is no escape—we pay for the violence of our ancestors.”

Frank Herbert

“The concept of progress acts as a protective mechanism to shield us from the terrors of the future. —”

Frank Herbert

“I am a leg of the death tripod that will destroy our foes.”

Frank Herbert

“The mind can go either direction under stress—toward positive or toward negative:”

Frank Herbert

“Fremenler eskilerin 'spannungsbogen' dediği bir nitelikte kusursuzlaşmıştı... yani arzuladıkları bir şeyi elde etmeye çalışmadan önce sabredebiliyorlardı.”

Frank Herbert

“The universe is full of doors,”

Frank Herbert

“Whirling silence settled around Jessica. Every fiber of her body accepted the fact that something profound had happened to it. She felt that she was a conscious mote, smaller than any subatomic particle, yet capable of motion and of sensing her surroundings. Like an abrupt revelation—the curtains whipped away—she realized she had become aware of a psychokinesthetic extension of herself. She was the mote, yet not the mote.”

Frank Herbert


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