Quotes from Elizabeth Bear

It's an auspicious night for the overthrow of regimes.

The opportunity to change my mind was legally mandated by the Synarche, of course. I couldn't cannot entirely to the clade until I turned twenty-five standard, and I had to do it, legally, while I wasn't under the influence of any turning or rightminding controlled by the clade.

She could not bear to feel England's earth and cobblestones under her shoes again, she thought. And if she could bear that, then she might never bear to leave.

Tis in thy hands, Sir Poet.

He smiled, the cherub with a wicked secret.

She fell under the density of the Dragon's presence, ducking her face toward bedrock. Carven stone scored her palms; the heat of blood smeared the petals on the bas-relief biers. She managed one breath, and then another, and then her voice.

The Exalt Rien knew were monsters as much as Lords and Ladies. If Rien was Exalt, would she become a monster, too?

He coded like some people danced, glitter-eyed concentration and confident grace and never a hesitation.

Lady, if it would not kill me, I should kiss thee.

This time, there had been no evident danger, but nevertheless she was carried helplessly into the air and away.

He turned to face Murchaud, and bit his lip on the smile he wanted to taste.

Thinkst so little of me, Sir Poet, that I must srve the agenda of my mother or my Queen, and I have no passions of mine own?

Was this what having an identity felt like? Was this being someone? Feeling like there was a core of who you were beyond which you could not be altered?

David was a featherweight in his arms, a frail thing that smelled of citrus-musk and and lilac cologne and filled him with rasping, heated pulse. David stifled a sob against his throat, jaws working, lacerating Sebastien's skin as Sebastien bore them both down on the couch.

She shoved the thought of Genie's giant bright lost eyes into the same box where she kept the memories of Leah, Carver, her mother and father, and Papa Georges.

My name is Zanya Farweather, and I'm a representative of the Autonomous Collective Republic of Freeports." "You're a pirate." "If you're a fascist, sure.

We eat our mates if we can catch them. Everybody's got some evolutionary baggage that winds up maladaptive in a sophont setting.

Thinkst so little of me, Sir Poet, that I must serve the agenda of my mother or my Queen, and I have no passions of mine own?

How long has it been, mistress? Just think: I offer what another cannot. I am what I am, and no apologies. I will not lie to you, promise to protect you, take my use of you, and leave. I cannot, and you will always have control of me.

One of the things I'd noticed was that, in addition to all my weird new secondary senses relating to gravity and mass and so forth, my eyes were becoming better adopted to seeing under a variety of light conditions.

Will pitched his voice low, a servant's deference, and hoped Salisbury's expansive mode continued, although he dreaded to learn the source of it.

It was perfectly silent, and perfectly safe, and perfectly warm. And perfectly alone.

Protein is not so difficult to obtain these diar that it's worth depriving the galaxy of an astrophysicist or a poet in order to eke out few more eggs.

Her chains rattled. Man, if I turned off my ethics I'd probably murder her just to not have to hear the rattling for a while.