Quotes from Elizabeth Bear

It seems poetic that the strength of our enemies be made to serve us.

I wondered if it had eaten a suspect. If I had, I hoped the suspect deserved it. It seemed like a good cop, as such things went, and I'd hate to think less of it.

His features were broad and solemn, his eyes stern except when bright. He seemed solid, wary, unassuming-a blocky muscular man whose coloring facilitated his tendency to fade into the shadows. But Vincent felt him glowering, his displeasure was like the weight of an angry hand.

Keith topped six feet, broad chest and thick limbs showing the heritage of the same Norse raiders who had left Scotland his burnished red hair and the feral gleam in his eyes. Those eyes were level with Fyodor's chin, when Fyodor straightened to his full height.

Dragons, it seemed, knew about death and war. But not so much about baking.

Even now, Will realized he could sense Kit's movements with a lover's awareness. He wasn't sure if that comforted or troubled him, but he stepped closer because he could, and raised one hand to touch the hackled raven on his shoulder.

Is that so surprising, that you should be desirable?

Whatever her life was now, Cricket had made her own mistakes in the past-was still making them, if André Deschênes was any indication-and frankly, she'd class some of them as mistakes only because she got caught.

The whole thing-pirate and perch-revolved in a lopsided orbit after I hit her, the center of gravity somewhere around her thighs.

Her voice sounded hurt. The emotion might even be real. People are complicated.

Elena might think she was the saltspider at the center of the web, but Lesa couldn't allow her to recognize all the layers of machinations here.

As he watched, the kiss was completed. Mallory pressed pink lips over the head woman's mouth, and Tristen could see the working between the corpse's teeth. Mallory's eyes closed, fingers fanning through brown hair to hold the head steady.

He glanced down, his lashes thick and ivory against his blue-tinged cheek, and draw the dead man's sheath and knife from his boot.

Somehow, the softness in her deep gray eyes was worse than censure or a Queen's cold wrath.

How can I refuse an offer like that? We are all we have. And we are so small, and the night is so large.

She shook a clatter of braids over her shoulder, the sweep of her hand encompassing the dale and the line of the forest beyond, before she tucked it into her pocket.

She tossed her hair behind her shoulder. Not a coquette's gesture, but a queen's.

My hand, innocent of its glove, catches hers. I move her fingertip from my face, but still we are skin to skin.

We've hauled a whole lot of weirdness back to civilization, and I'd really like some insight into how two ships and two crews were mysteriously disable, and what exactly this walker is for.

Michelangelo's thumb moved across his wrist, giving Vincent a sympathetic shiver at the imagined texture of the skin.

He laid a hand on Ian's shoulder and squeezed; Ian gave him a wry sideways look.

She hadn't really done anything to me physically. This was just what a broken heart felt like.

Startle not. Startle not, my beauty.

We're hauled a whole lot of weirdness back to civilization, and I'd really like some insight into how two ships and two crews were mysteriously disabled, and what exactly this walker is for.