“The Fremen were supreme in that quality the ancients called “spannungsbogen”—which is the self-imposed delay between desire for a thing and the act of reaching out to grasp that thing. —FROM “THE WISDOM OF MUAD’DIB” BY THE PRINCESS IRULAN”

Frank Herbert

“The universe is full of doors.”

Frank Herbert

“And the price we paid was the price men have always paid for achieving a paradise in this life -we went soft, we lost our edge.”

Frank Herbert

“The mind commands the body and it obeys. The mind orders itself and meets resistance.”

Frank Herbert

“The hunter does not seek dead game.”

Frank Herbert

“Hope clouds observation.”

Frank Herbert

“The Baron could see the path ahead of him. One day, a Harkonnen would be Emperor. Not himself, and no spawn of his loins. But a Harkonnen. Not this Rabban he’d summoned, of course.

Frank Herbert

“Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken.”

Frank Herbert

“Where is Alia?' she asked. 'Out doing what any good Fremen child should be doing in such times,' Paul said. 'She’s killing enemy wounded...”

Frank Herbert

“Mankind has only one science… its the science of discontent.”

Frank Herbert

“It supports a ruling class that lives as ruling classes have lived in all times while, beneath them, a semihuman mass of semislaves exists on the leavings…”

Frank Herbert

“A popular man arouses the jealousy of the powerful.”

Frank Herbert

“Can you remember your first taste of spice?” “It tasted like cinnamon.”

Frank Herbert

“Can you remember your first taste of spice?” “It tasted like cinnamon.” “But never twice the same,” he said. “It’s like life—it presents a different face each time you take it. Some hold that the spice produces a learned-flavor reaction. The body, learning a thing is good for it, interprets the flavor as pleasurable—slightly euphoric. And, like life, never to be truly synthesized.”

Frank Herbert

“How do we approach the study of Muad’Dib’s father? A man of surpassing warmth and surprising coldness was the Duke Leto Atreides. Yet, many facts open the way to this Duke: his abiding love for his Bene Gesserit lady; the dreams he held for his son; the devotion with which men served him. You see him there—a man snared by Destiny, a lonely figure with his light dimmed behind the glory of his son. Still, one must ask: What is the son but an extension of the father?”

Frank Herbert


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