Philip K. Dick

The Martians are always coming.

I used to dig in the garden, and there isn't anything fantastic or ultradimensional about crab grass... unless you are a SF writer, in which case, pretty soon you're viewing crabgrass with suspicion. What are its real motives? And who sent it in the first place? The question I always found myself asking was, 'What is it, really?'

The universe is information and we are stationary in it, not three dimensional and not in space or time.

I dreamed: I am the fish whose flesh is eaten, and because I am fat, it is good.

I am a fictionalizing philosopher, not a novelist.

Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away.

When I believe, I am crazy. When I don't believe, I suffer psychotic depression.

I want to write about people I love, and put them into a fictional world spun out of my own mind, not the world we actually have, because the world we actually have does not meet my standards.

The ultimate problem confronting me all my life has been the senseless injury to and neglect of my sister.

The trouble with being educated is that it takes a long time; it uses up the better part of your life and when you are finished what you know is that you would have benefited more by going into banking.

We are living in a computer-programmed reality, and the only clue we have to it is when some variable is changed, and some alteration in reality occurs. We have the overwhelming impression that we were reliving the present - deja vu.

Science fiction writers, I am sorry to say, really do not know anything. We can't talk about science, because our knowledge of it is limited and unofficial, and usually our fiction is dreadful.