Solomon Jefferson

“Lutch Crawford always talked straight to the point. That’s how he got so much work done. “Fawn, about the other night, with all that moon. How do you feel now?”
“I feel the same way,” she said tightly.
Lutch had a little habit of catching his lower lip with his teeth and letting go when he was thinking was hard. There was a pause about long enough to do this. Then he said, “You been hearing rumors about you and me?”
“Well I—” She caught her breath. “Oh, Lutch—” I heard the wicker, sharp and crisp, as she came up out of it.
“Hold on!” Lutch snapped. “There’s nothing to it, Fawn. Forget it.”
I heard the wicker again, slow, the front part, the back part. She didn’t say anything.
“There’s some things too big for one or two people to fool with, honey,” he said gently. “This band’s one of ’em. For whatever it’s worth, it’s bigger than you and me. It’s going good and it’ll go better. It’s about as perfect as a group can get. It’s a unit. Tight. So tight that one wrong move’ll blow out all its seams. You and me, now—that’d be a wrong move.”
“How do you know? What do you mean?”
“Call it a hunch. Mostly, I know that things have been swell up to now, and I know that you—we—anyway, we can’t risk a change in the good old status quo.”
“But—what about me?” she wailed.
“Tough on you?” I’d known Lutch a long time, and this was the first time his voice didn’t come full and easy. “Fawn, there’s fourteen cats in this aggregation and they all feel the same way about you as you do about me. You have no monopoly. Things are tough all over. Think of that next time you feel spring fever coming on.” I think he bit at his lower lip again. In a soft voice like Skid’s guitar with the bass stop, he said, “I’m sorry, kid.”
“Don’t call me kid!” she blazed.
“You better go practice your scales,” he said thickly.
The door slammed.
After a bit he let me out. He went and sat by the window, looking out.
“Now what did you do that for?” I wanted to know.
“For the unit,” he said, still looking out the window.
“You’re crazy. Don’t you want her?”
What I could see of his face answered that question. I don’t think I’d realized before how much he wanted her. I don’t think I’d thought about it. He said, “I don’t want her so badly I’d commit murder for an even chance at her. You do. If anyone wants her worse than I do, I don’t want her enough. That’s the way I see it.”
― theodore sturgeon, The Complete Stories of Theodore Sturgeon, Volume V: The Perfect Host

“When reading a book, be very certain that you never go past a word you do not fully understand. The only reason a person gives up a study or becomes confused or unable to learn is because he or she has gone past a word that was not understood.”
― L. Ron Hubbard

“The Spin’s not just some abstract phenomenon—you guys made them look the beast in the eye, and good for you, I guess, but if your project goes wrong you steal that courage away again, and now it’s worse because they’ve seen the thing. And they will not love you for failing, Tyler, because it will leave them more frightened than they’ve ever been.”
― Robert Charles Wilson, Spin

“... and so I fear that in his unstable condition he is being manipulated.”
― Trevor Alan Foris, The Octunnumi Fosbit Files Prologue