Quotes from Lois McMaster Bujold

Wait. He paused, and she held out a hand to him. His thick fingers engulfed her tapering ones; his skin was warm and dry, and scorched her. Before we go pick up poor Lieutenant Illyan again... He took her in his arms, and they kissed, for the first time, for a long time. Oh, she muttered after. Perhaps that was a mistake. It hurts so much when you stop. Well, let me... his hand stroked her hair, gently, then desperately wrapped itself in a shimmering coil; they kissed again.

One learns better than to hand one's choices to fear. With age, with every wound and scar, one learns.

Take heart, sir, Cazaril consoled him. It is not your destiny today to win a royacy for your son. It is to win an empire for your grandson.

Identity. That's my elephant. The thought came with certainty, without the question mark on the end this time. Not fame, exactly, though recognition was some kind of important cement for it. But what you were was what you did. And I did more, oh yes. If a hunger for identity were translated into, say, a hunger for food, he'd be a more fantastic glutton than Mark ever dreamed of being. Is it irrational, to want to be so much, to want so hard it hurts? And how much, then, was enough?

For Berry, you just be there, Whit. Be the one person in the wide green world she doesn't have to explain it to, because you were there and saw it all for yourself. Hand her a clean cloth if she cries or bleeds, and some warm thing for the pain that doubles her over. The time to hold her will come. This day isn't over yet.

I know what the value [of storytelling] is to me -- varied and huge, giving me everything from delight, to knowledge, to access to friends and colleagues, a desirable identity through valued work, escape from pain, and a steady income. Not bad, for something so intangible as making and selling dream-by-number kits.

How hard could husbanding be? Don't drink, don't gamble, don't bring hunting dogs to the table. Don't be terrified of tooth-drawers. Don't be stupid about money. Don't go for a soldier. No hitting girls. He wasn't drawn to violate any of these prohibitions. Assuming older sisters weren't classified as girls. Maybe make that, No hitting girls first.

Our children change us . . . whether they live or not.

Are we not all called on to yield our children back to the world, in the end?

Your divine should not have used water. It just doesn't hold the attention properly. Wine. Or blood, in a pinch. Some liquid that matters.

I was so afraid for you, I forgot to be afraid for your enemies. I should have remembered. Dear Captain.

like swatting flies with a laser cannon. The aim's a bit tricky, but it sure takes care of the flies.

You want to be good. All right, I can understand that. But you have to be careful who you let define your good.

Ivan: ] "... you haven't let the lack of half-marks stop you. Or the rules. Or respect for reality, as afar as I can tell." [Miles:] "I never let anything stop me. That's how you get what you want, Ivan. No one's going to just hand it to you.

Once you had delegated the best people to do a job for you, you had to trust both them and your judgment. What

That's the spirit! Forward momentum. Mayhew snorted. Your forward momentum is going to lead all your followers over a cliff someday. He paused, beginning to grin. On the way down, you'll convince 'em all they can fly. He stuck his fists in his armpits, and waggled his elbows. Lead on, my lord. I'm flapping as hard as I can.

I thought you saw meaning in that sort of thing, said Vorkosigan. In the abstract. Most days it's just stumbling around in the dark with the rest of creation, smashing into things and wondering why it hurts.

If anyone was sane here, he swore it was by accident.

There is this, about being the sparring partner of the best swordsman in Caribastos. I always lost. But if ever I meet the third best swordsman in Caribastos, he's going to be in very deep trouble.

innocence based in ignorance was unfit to protect itself.

Save me from the virtuous.

He's not so short," said Ekaterin defensively. "He's just . . . concentrated." Her

All sorts of men don't make it home for the births of their children. But My mother was out of town on the day I was born, so she missed it, just seems . . . seems like a more profound complaint, somehow.

What's in the box? Not a severed head—again—I trust?" It seemed too small for that, fortunately. Cordelia's gray eyes glinted. "Now, now, Oliver. Bring home one dismembered body part, once, mind you, once, and people get twitchy about checking your luggage ever after.