Quotes from Lois McMaster Bujold

If she finished her work—hah, now there was a fantasy, this work would never be finished, only abandoned, or, all right, passed on—she might squeeze out another day off by next weekend.

Surrounded by them all, she was reminded of the old parental curse—May you have six children just like you. Except that this curse seemed to have gone awry. Miles would have reveled at six children just like himself; he'd have known exactly what to do. Instead, he seemed to have received six children, none in the least like himself, and furthermore, each one different from all the others. As parental revenges went, this was actually much better.

She opened her mouth once to speak, closed it, then finally ripped out, "Why aren't you on your way home? I gave you an order, Lieutenant!" Stuben, anticipating a warmer reception, was momentarily nonplussed. "We took a vote," he said simply, as though it explained everything. Cordelia

I was imagining the most bizarre things befalling you." "Did they include a six-hundred-pound ice bear and a pirate poet?" "No…" "Then they weren't the most bizarre after all.

People are the only mirror we have to see ourselves in. The domain of all meaning. All virtue, all evil, are contained only in people. There is none in the universe at large. Solitary confinement is a punishment in every human culture.

Aunt Lorna buys all our shoes big to grow into, Mina explained to Miles-san. That's why they slip around like that. Lieutenant Johannes, peering doubtfully into the depths of the refrigerator, murmured, Beer... ? Do you like beer, Mina? Miles-san asked. She shook her head, making her straight black hair swing around her chin. Thought not, somehow. You'll have to do better, Johannes. Aren't all you attaché fellows supposed to be ImpSec trained? Improvise!

Must retire harder...

So the unknown breeds dragons in map margins, she reflected...

Prayer, he suspected... was putting one foot in front of the other. Moving all the same.

Pen stared around the disrupted harbor. I'll ... return. You'd better, said Seuka, with determination. Pen swung up onto the coarse rope weave and flashed a grin over his shoulder. I thought I was the evil sorcerer. Lencia shot back, Yes, but you're our evil sorcerer.

Barrayar is bred in my bones. I cannot shake it, no matter how far I travel. This struggle, God knows, has no honor in it. But exile, for no other motive than ease—that would be to give up all hope of honor. The last defeat, with no seed of future victory in it.

You're worse than evil. You're inefficient.

Are you glad, or sorry?" "About children?" She glanced at his face. He seemed to have no awareness of having hit a sore point dead on. "They just haven't come my way, I guess." The

Hm," said the Count, rubbing his lips and regarding Miles with cool approval. "Interesting. Well. For your fourth consoling thought, I would point out that in this venue"—a wave of his finger took in Vorbarr Sultana, and by extension Barrayar—"acquiring a reputation as a slick and dangerous man, who would kill without compunction to obtain and protect his own, is not all bad. In fact, you might even find it useful.

The officer hurried up to him, and half-saluted. "Admiral Naismith?" Iverson was no one he knew; at this level of the echelon the man must take him for a valued, but non-Barrayaran, ImpSec hireling. "The one and only. You can tell your men to relax. The installation is secured." "You secured it yourself?" Iverson asked in faint disbelief. "More or less." "We've been looking for this place for two years!" Miles

When I was twenty, I knew everything about my future. Now, I know nothing.

Miles looked up at his father. "Did I do the right thing, sir? Last night?" "Yes," said the Count simply. "A right thing. Perhaps not the best of all possible right things. Three days from now you may think of a cleverer tactic, but you were the man on the ground at the time. I try not to second-guess my field commanders." Miles's heart rose in his aching chest for the first time since he'd left Kyril Island. He nodded, satisfied.

she had switched from counting her years not up from birth, but back from death—a grab-bag of time not growing, but shrinking, use it or lose it.

Ethan trembled, waiting for the insanity to strike him from their level, medusan gazes. Nothing happened. After a moment, he unclutched the desk edge. Perhaps then the madness that possessed galactic men, slaves to these creatures, was something only transmitted in the flesh. Some incalculable telepathic aura? Bravely, he raised his eyes again to the figures in the screen. So. That was a woman -- two women, in fact.

Is kidnapping kidnappers still kidnapping? Miles mused. Yes, said Roic, unhelpfully. Not that NewEgypt is likely to bring charges. Naw, they'd do something else. I am reminded. I could have Suze freeze and store them for us, I suppose. Technically. Roic gave him the Look. If push came to shove. As a Kibou-daini problem-solving technique, there seems to be precedent. Roic said nothing, firmly.

a skilled soldier kills your enemies, but a skilled duelist kills your allies. I

I'd storm heaven for you, if I knew where it was.

The base doctor had no charts; Cordelia's medical records were of course all behind enemy lines in Vorbarr Sultana at present. He shook his head and keyed up a new form on his report panel. "I'm sorry, Lady Vorkosigan. We'll simply have to begin at the beginning. Please bear with me. Do I understand correctly you've had some sort of female trouble?" No, most of my troubles have been with males. Cordelia bit her tongue.

He'd tried for me twice. Three times, if what you say is true. I decided not to give him a fourth chance." "Oh." Penric sank back, signing himself. "I regret… not doing better with him." "Well, he's his god's problem now. Don't promote your troubles beyond your rank." "That is actually theologically sound advice.