A sense of wrongness, of fraught unease, as if long nails scraped the surface of the moon, raising the hackles of the soul.
("Perdido Street Station")
More Quotes from China Miéville:
My sustenance is information. My interventions are hidden. I increase as I learn. I compute, so I am.China Miéville
Art is something you choose to make... it's a bringing together of... of everything around you into something that makes you more human, more khepri, whatever. More of a person.
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A sickly little smile grew and died on his mouth like a fungus.
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The choice not to have sex, not to be hurt. The choice not to risk pregnancy. And then... what if she had become pregnant? The choice not to abort? The choice not to have a child?
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Old stories would tell how Weavers would kill each other over aesthetic disagreements, such as whether it was prettier to destroy an army of a thousand men or to leave it be, or whether a particular dandelion should or should not be plucked. For a Weaver, to think was to think aesthetically. To act--to Weave--was to bring about more pleasing patterns. They did not eat physical food: they seemed to subsist on the appreciation of beauty.
China Miéville
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