The Doors of His Face, the Lamps of His Mouth

15 Dec

The Doors of His Face, the Lamps of His Mouth

The Doors of His Face, the Lamps of His Mouth

Roger Zelazny

Language: English

Pages: 178

ISBN: B017PNXIUS

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Here is a collection of strange, beautiful stories covering the full spectrum of the late Roger Zelazny's remarkable talents. He had a rare ability to mix the dream-like, disturbing imagery of fantasy with the real-life hardware of science fiction. His vivid imagination and fine prose made him one of the most highly acclaimed writers in his field.

Contents:

• The Doors of His Face, the Lamps of His Mouth (1965)
• The Keys to December (1966)
• Devil Car (1965)
• A Rose for Ecclesiastes (1963)
• The Monster and the Maiden (1964)
• Collector's Fever (1964)
• This Mortal Mountain (1967)
• This Moment of the Storm (1966)
• The Great Slow Kings (1963)
• A Museum Piece (1963)
• Divine Madness (1966)
• Corrida (1968)
• Love is an Imaginary Number (1966)
• The Man Who Loved the Faioli (1967)
• Lucifer (1964)
• The Furies (1965)
• The Graveyard Heart (1964)

Originally published in 1971 by Doubleday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

caterpillars still live. They seem much larger, I understand, but it is actually because they have become woollier than they used to be. It seems that most of the animals have heavier pelts these days. Some apparently have taken to hibernating. A strange thing: Station Seven reported that they had thought the bipeds were growing heavier coats. There seem to be quite a few of them in that area, and they often see them off in the distance. They looked to be shaggier. Closer observation, however,

just want the flower." "I'd have to use the tanks." He scratched his hairless dome. "It would take at least three months to get you flowers, even under forced growth." "Will you do it?" "Sure, if you don't mind the wait." "Not at all. In fact, three months will just make it before we leave." I looked about at the pools of crawling slime, at the trays of shoots. "—I'm moving up to Tirellian today, but I'll be in and out all the time. I'll be here when it blooms." "Moving up there, eh? Moore

known! "And Braxa?" "She was chosen half a Process ago to do the dances—to wait for you." "But she said that Ontro would stop me." M'Cwyie stood there for a long time. "She had never believed the prophecy herself. Things are not well with her now. She ran away, fearing it was true. When you completed it and we voted, she knew." "Then she does not love me? Never did?" "I am sorry, Gallinger. It was the one part of her duty she never managed." "Duty," I said flatly ... Dutydutyduty! Tra-la!

blonde-hair-white-hair-fused, short and parted in the middle, gave a little stir as she turned—like a sunshot snowdrift struck by sudden winds. She smiled and said, "I'm busy." "Eyes green, chin small, cute little ears—I love them all'—from an anonymous Valentine I'd sent her two months previous, and true. " ... But not too busy to have coffee with God," she stated. "Have a throne, and I'll make us some instant." I did, and she did. While she was doing it, I leaned back, lit a cigarette I'd

the case of a multitude of organic subjects?" inquired the other. "Definitely," said Dran. "There is a certain irrational element in the rationale of the organic being, making it less amenable to direct orders than a machine would be. Our robots, at least, were faithful when we ordered them to destroy one another. Irresponsible organic subjects either do it without being told, which is boorish, or refuse to do it when you order them, which is insubordination." "True," smiled Drax, unearthing a

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