Quotes from Elizabeth Bear

He just wanted to die and now he's in me, and Mallory won't let him die.

The hand trembled like any human's, with spent passion and frustration.

They were the first ones to die, you know. You can't accuse them of hypocrisy. The Governors Assessed their creators first.

I should have known she'd read through the riddle of thy presence.

Keith could smell the emotions swirling behind Fyodor's impassive voice, the richness of fear and sorrow like old thick blood, the determination and the bright sharp steel of need. He breathed it deep and nodded.

It wasn't difficult to discover where the courtesan in the domino mask lived: not far from the murdered boys, which was as Sebastien would have wagered.

Well, I'm the king of Foot in Mouth.

I'd rather be bored than sad. I'd rather be done than lonely.

His voice, softly cultured as ever, showed little of the emotional strain until he dropped his hands to his side and swore.

She let Carel guide her to a chair, the warm smell of vanilla following the swing of Carel's braids.

I found myself looking at her profile: straight, proud nose and an arch expression. Her lips curved.

His poet would never disappoint him.

I like interesting people. I'm boring myself, but I'm drawn to greatness.

Richard is made in the image of a physicist dead since the previous century.

Why is your species so full of horrible ideas?

Two Queens ruled Faerie, a kingdom divided between them. The elder was the Mebd, the Summer Queen. The younger was the Cat Anna, the Queen of Winter, the White Witch. There had been others, Queens and Kings of air and darkness, ghosts and shadows: Oonaugh, Titania, Oberon, Niamh, Finnvarra.

The ladder these angels must climb was the double helix. And then they would be God. They, who were splinters of God.

She shook out her skirts in the hall, and retrieved her silver-tipped ebony wand.

She did not look down in time to avoid the warmth of his smile.

Vincent stood, all lithe grace, and let his hand rest warmly on Michelangelo's shoulder.

It struck Seeker that she did not know the man her own son had become.

A shape was only a mask, to be discarded upon an instant.

Funny how he could always tell exactly where Michelangelo's attention was, even when Angelo was pretending it was somewhere else.

The darkness was their friend, the torchlight their ally; it would turn the mouth of this particular tunnel into a well of darkness for anyone in the open space beyond.