Quotes from Elizabeth Bear

His hair was unmistakeable, a startling light color that Lesa was almost temptd to call blond, though nobody classically blond had survived Assessment.

The bruises under her eyes are dark enough for Min-xue to dip his brush in and write poetry.

Sneaky manipulative bundle of code.

No mortal lights illuminated the scene: not even a few candles flickering dimly in the windows of the White Tower. There was only the ethereal moonlit glow surrounding the court of the Daoine Sidhe, who waited on fair steeds like so many ghostly riders on a procession out of Hell.

They were all born together of the starlight and the sea.

Strike two for Utopia. The problem with the damned things always comes when you try to introduce actual people into your philosophical constructs.

Well, Haimey Dz, you always wanted to make a legend for yourself. Here's your chance at becoming a really spectacular example of a cautionary tale!

Wolves don't live long, who walk heedlessly into a moonlit field. Even one that amounts to their backyard.

He'd stepped from the Darkling Glass, his sword in hand and witchcraft on his lips-and straight into a sorcerer's trap.

Romantic feelings were so tiresome. And so inappropriate, when dealing with a patient, but human beings are programmed to get attached to those we caretake, or those who take care of us.

The necromancer's eyebrows were very expressive, especially when the rest of the face was pretending blandness. It was a lovely face, oval and more angelic than Perceval's own.

Hating people doesn't accomplish anything except poisoning yourself. I should turn it off. I should let it go. The thing was, first I had to want to let it go.

She wondered if the man who had written that clever little technomantic virus still would have done so, if he had known he would be breaking her heart for centuries to come.

Having reclaimed the world's neural networks and integrated the memories of the splintered angels she'd consumed, she had access-finally-to an enormous database of useful information.

Much as I'd like to feed her her own superior smile sometimes, I still want the woman to like me. And I want her to like herself enough to keep doing what we need her for. Because, God knows, I haven't got it in me to try.

I had a moment's respect for this wily silce of code.

His voice was a bare whisper, resonant of violoncello and the wind of midnight trees.

Hast made the acquaintance of thy friend Edward the Second's ghost yet, pussycat? They tell me he still screams.

Muire thought he might be a little too aware of his own quirky androgynous beauty. But he was nevertheless polite, and at last his teeth were cooked.

Command was good her her, and she was good for it.

You left me," David said at last. "You were angry company." But the fingers that traced his brow and cheek were anything but angry. "I wasn't angry at you.

Lifting her head, blinking sweat from her lashes, she studied the vines on her right side, looking for a place with fever thorns.

Perhaps I had been dreaming, processing and refining old memories in the way you're supposed to process and refine newer ones.

Such a pretty thing, and so flawed at his heart: it made the Devil's fingers itch to mend him.