And yet now, and then he let himself steal a glance at her. Lovely dark colors of her skin, hair, and eyes. We are half-baked compared to them. Allowed out of the kiln before we were fully done. The old aboriginal myth; the truth, there.

— Philip K. Dick

A person’s authentic nature is a series of shifting, variegated planes that establish themselves as he relates to different people; it is created by and appears within the framework of his interpersonal relationships.

— Philip K. Dick

Are―you dying?" she asked." Just can't breathe. This air."" Poor, poor―good lord. I've forgotten your name."" Hell of a thing."" Barney!" He clutched her." No! Don't stop!" She arched her back. Her teeth chattered." I wasn't going to," he said. "Though!" He laughed." Don't please laugh at me."" Not meant unkindly." A long silence, then. Then, "Of.

— Philip K. Dick

A weird time in which we are alive. We can travel anywhere we want, even to other planets. And for what? To sit day after day, declining in morale and hope.

— Philip K. Dick

Barefoot conducts his seminars on his houseboat in Causality. It costs a hundred dollars to find out why we are on this Earth. You also get a sandwich, but I wasn't hungry that day. John Lennon had just been killed, and I think I know why we are on this Earth; it's to find out that what you love the most will be taken away from you, probably due to an error in high places rather than by design.

— Philip K. Dick

Basically, Sherri's idea had to do with bringing Fat's mind down from the cosmic and the abstract to the particular. She had hatched out the practical notion that nothing is more real than a large World War Two Soviet tanks.

— Philip K. Dick

Because of an imaginary voice, Nicholas had become a whole person; rather than the partial person he had been in Berkeley. If he had remained in Berkeley he would have lived and died a partial person, never knowing completeness.

— Philip K. Dick

Blade, she thought. I swallowed it; now cuts my loins forever. Punishment. Married to a Jew and shacking up with a German assassin. She felt tears again in her eyes, boiling. For all I have committed. Wrecked. 'Let's go,' she said, rising to her feet. 'The hairdresser.

— Philip K. Dick

But an artist, he realized. Or rather so-called artist. Bohemian. That's closer to it. The artistic life without the talent.

— Philip K. Dick

But as he plodded along a vague and almost hallucinatory pall hazed over his mind; he found himself at one point, with no notion of how it could be, a step from an almost certain fatal cliffside fall—falling humiliatingly and helplessly, he thought; on and on, with no one even to witness it. Here there existed no one to record his or anyone else's degradation, and any courage or pride which might manifest itself here at the end would go unmarked: the dead stones, the dust-stricken weeds dry and dying, perceived nothing, recollected nothing, about him or themselves.

— Philip K. Dick