He felt great. spa'dassins digladiate; ziffidae and xebecs

He felt great. spa'dassins digladiate; ziffidae and xebecs contend! gol-iard dunking!

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In Iain M. Banks' "Excession," the character experiences a state of euphoria and excitement. His feelings are described with vibrant imagery, suggesting an intense engagement with his surroundings. The mention of "spa'dassins digladiate" and "ziffidae and xebecs" evokes a sense of a dynamic and competitive environment filled with various beings and ships vying for dominance.

This exuberance is further highlighted by the playful phrase "gol-iard dunking," indicating a spirited and carefree attitude. Overall, the character appears to be immersed in a lively and chaotic scene, reflecting a broader theme of adventure and contention within the narrative.

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Excession

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Iain M. Banks

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March 19, 2025

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Two hundred and thirty-three thousand times the speed of light. Dear holy fucking shit. The Yawning Angel thought there was something almost vulgar about such a velocity. Where the hell was it heading for? Andromeda?

The Culture had a problem with the Affront. The Affront had a problem with the Culture, too, for that matter, but it was a pretty plain thing in comparison; the Affront's problem with the Culture was simply that the older civilisation stopped it doing all the things it wanted to do. The Culture's problem with the Affront was like an itch they couldn't scratch; the Culture's problem with the Affront was that the Affront existed at all and the Culture couldn't in all conscience do anything about it.

SPADASSINS DIGLADIATE! ZIFFIDAE AND XEBECS CONTEND! GOL-IARD DUNKING! Slogans, signs, announcements, odours and personal greeters vied for attention, advertising emporia and venues. Stunning 'scapes and scenes played out in sensorium bubbles bulging out into the centre of the street, putting you instantly into bedrooms, feast-halls, arenae, harems, seaships, fair rides, space battles, states of temporary ecstasy; tempting, prompting, suggesting, offering, providing entrance, stimulating appetites, prompting desires; suggesting, propositioning, pandering. RHYPAROGRAPHY! KELOIDAL ANAMNESIS! IVRESSE!

Still guarding against threats and possibilities even it found difficult to specify, some of the Culture's stored warvessels were harboured not in or around highly populated Orbitals full of life and the comings and goings of cruise ships and visiting GSVs, but in places as far out of the way as it was possible to find amongst the cavernously cold and empty spaces of the great lens; quiet, secret, hidden places; places off the beaten track, places possibly nobody else even knew existed.

The black bird Gravious made to settle on her shoulder; she shooed it off and it landed flapping uproariously on the edge of the opened trap door. 'My tree!' it screamed, hopping from leg to leg. 'My tree! They've - I - my - it's gone!' 'Too bad,' she said. The sound of another great tumble of falling rock split the skies. 'Stay wherever it puts me,' she told the bird. 'If it'll let you. Now get out of my way.' 'But my food for the winter! It's gone!' 'Winter has gone, you stupid bird,' she told it.

Genar-Hofoen had arrived a few days after the end of Tier's annual Festival. There was an air of autumnal desuetude mixed with high-summer torpor about the place when he arrived; people were cleaning up, calming down, getting back to normal and generally behaving themselves. He'd signalled ahead and succeeded in booking the services of an erotroupe as well as reserving a garden penthouse in the View, the best hotel on Level Three.

All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.

All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.

Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!

Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!

"Philip Sharpe was a soldier in God's army," says the minister. "Now he marches with the angels."

"Philip Sharpe was a soldier in God's army," says the minister. "Now he marches with the angels."

For me the curse is a crutch, but the con is everything.

For me the curse is a crutch, but the con is everything.

On the way out to the car, Philip turns to me. "How could you be so stupid?" I shrug, stung in spite of myself. "I thought I grew out of it." Philip pulls out his key fob and presses the remote to unlock his Mercedes. I slide into the passenger side, brushing coffee cups off the seat and onto the floor mat, where crumpled printouts from MapQuest soak up any spilled liquid. "I hope you mean sleepwalking," Philip says, "since you obviously didn't grow out of stupid."

On the way out to the car, Philip turns to me. "How could you be so stupid?" I shrug, stung in spite of myself. "I thought I grew out of it." Philip pulls out his key fob and presses the remote to unlock his Mercedes. I slide into the passenger side, brushing coffee cups off the seat and onto the floor mat, where crumpled printouts from MapQuest soak up any spilled liquid. "I hope you mean sleepwalking," Philip says, "since you obviously didn't grow out of stupid."

I don't have anything against God. Far from it. But I don't understand Him. And I don't trust a lot of the people that go around claiming that they're working in His best interests.