Quotes from Lois McMaster Bujold

Byerly will no doubt wish to squire Rish." Thus saving steps for ImpSec, too. Mamere was well aware of every angle. Ivan managed not to choke. "Just . . . don't invite Miles. Or let him invite himself.

Welcome to mine, Joen of Jokona," said Ista. "I am the Mouth of Hell.

What do you most want for your birthday picnic, Admiral?" Taken by surprise, he answered honestly: "No casualties.

Elena's eye lit with a skewed enthusiasm. "Dear God, Miles. Metzov—Oser—Ungari—all in a row—you sure are hard on your commanding officers. What are you going to do when the time comes to let them all out?" Miles shook his head mutely. "I don't know.

He wondered how many would ever march home. Better it seemed to export cheese or cloth, but it was true that fortunes were made in the military trade. Though seldom by the soldiers, any more than by the cheeses.

At a growl from Kety, the procession paused in front of the entering Barrayarans. Miles heard Kety's voice, icy-cold: "Congratulations, Lord Vorpatril. I hope you may be fortunate enough to survive your victory." "Huh?" said Ivan. Oh

I'm afraid even ImpSec has no explanation for women's tastes in men.

Loyalty must run two ways, else become betrayal in the egg.

The shuttle bumped, bounced, banged, rocked, and roared out over the flat, cracked surface. She was sorry she had never made a pass at Leo. Clearly, you could die while waiting for other people to start your life for you. Her seat harness cut across her breasts as deceleration sucked her forward and the rumbling vibration rattled her teeth.

Between one breath and the next, the vision took him. It came not as a chain of reason, more words words words, but as a blinding image, all complete in its first moment, inherent, holistic, gestalt, inspired. Every hour of his life from now on would be but the linear exploration of its fullness.

Good God, Enrique was writing poetry to her? Yes, and why hadn't he thought of poetry? Besides the obvious reason of his absence of talent in that direction. He wondered if she'd like to read a really clever combat-drop mission plan, instead. Sonnets, damn. All he'd ever come up with in that line were limericks. He

Anything worth doing is worth doing well.

Ethan thought he understood how a propaganda-stuffed young soldier must feel the first time in combat, stumbling by some sudden chance over his enemy's human face. He had gloried for a red moment in his power to break her. Now he stood foolishly with the pieces in his hands. Not at all heroic.

Those five days we were locked up together at Vasa Luigi's, that wasn't an effect of the imprisonment, was it? That's the way you really are, when you're well? Pretty much, he admitted. I've always wondered what adult hyperactives did for a living.

Any man can be kind when he is comfortable. I'd always thought kindness a trivial virtue, therefore. But when we were hungry, thirsty, sick, frightened, with our deaths shouting at us, in the heart of horror, you were still as unfailingly courteous as a gentleman at his ease before his own hearth." "Events may be horrible or inescapable. Men have always a choice—if not whether, then how, they may endure.

there is no thought control—or I'd certainly have put it to use before this. Trying to shape, or respond to, what every idiot on the street believes—on the basis of little logic and less information—would only serve to drive you mad.

Honesty is the only way with anyone, when you'll be so close as to be living inside each other's skins. So . . . is this Ekaterin another passing fancy?" The Count hesitated, his eyes crinkling. "Or is she the one who will love my son forever and fiercely—hold his household and estates with integrity—stand beside him through danger, and dearth, and death—and guide my grandchildren's hands when they light my funeral offering?

He claims that the gods, and we, are both right here all the time, a shadow's thickness apart. We've no distance to cross at all to get to each other.

Well, you go straight back to bed, then!" "Yes." He wheeled. She swatted him on the butt. He bit his tongue. She said, "At least you've been eating better. Take care of yourself, huh?" He

Don't let fear swallow all your happiness. Don't forget to take joy. Dag gulped. Both of their grounds were nearly closed. It was Arkady's voice alone that hinted how hard-bought this bit of wisdom might've been, yet the words had been nearly toneless.

But your most insidious chronic problem is in the area of . . . how shall I put this precisely . . . subordination. You argue too much." "No, I don't," Miles began indignantly, then shut his mouth.

That civet-jasmine blend you're wearing tonight absolutely clashes with the third-level formal style of your dress, you know.

Have you ever heard the phrase, Living well is the best revenge? Where I come from, someone's head in a bag is generally considered the best revenge.

Greed is an appetite that looks largely to some imagined or feared future.