"“I will consider this contention,” said Greenlaw dryly, with the For about ten seconds, after which I shall toss it out the nearest airlock hanging unspoken."

"There is a great deal of sanity to be saved in letting the past go, and moving on."

"What is it about you people who run sexually segregated fleets that makes you all disembark insane? No, don’t bother answering that, I think we all know. But the all-male military organizations who have that custom for religious or cultural reasons all come onto station leave like some horrible combination of kids let out of school and convicts let out of prison. The worst of both, actually—the judgment of children combined with the sexual deprivation of—never mind."

"“Anyway, he thinks we’re lying. But we’re not. Also, your people are idiots.” “Yes. I know. But they’re my idiots."

"There were security angles, political angles, personal angles—how many angles could dance on the head of a pin?"

"Military intelligence was as nothing to military stupidity."

"I smell diplomacy. Miles grimaced."

"Taura nailed it. She'll do for m'lord, all right. And God help their enemies."

"I’d have worn them as a courtesy to your friend...I’ll wear them now as a defiance to our enemies."

"Your talent for making interesting new enemies has evidently not deserted you."

"“What would you do? If you discovered or suspected such a horror?” His lips twisted. “That’s a tough one. A higher honor must underlie ours, the count says. We can’t ever obey unthinkingly.” “Huh. That’s what Miles says, too. Is that where he got it, from his father?” “I shouldn’t be surprised. M’lord’s brother Mark says integrity is a disease, and you can only catch it from someone who has it.”"

"Life’s uncertain out there. Things can go down bad, fast, anytime. We all just get a time, in our different ways."

"“I am a bodyguard by trade,” she said, evidently continuing a conversation with Lady Vorpatril. “How can I kick someone’s teeth in wearing this?” “A woman wearing that suit, my dear, will have volunteers to kick in annoying persons’ teeth for her,” said Lady Alys."

"“When he invited me to one for the Winterfair season, I wasn’t sure if it was hunting or social, and whether I should pack weapons or dresses.” Lady Vorpatril’s smile sharpened. “Dresses are weapons, my dear, in sufficiently skilled hands.”"

"Roots grow deep in the dark."

"If power was an illusion, wasn’t weakness necessarily one also?"

"“So much for that line of reasoning, Lord Richars,” Ekaterin finished. She sat back with a hand-dusting gesture, and added, by no means under her breath, “Twit.”"

"Government by thugs in the Bloody Centuries gave Barrayar many colorful historical incidents, suitable for high drama. I don’t think it’s a drama we wish to return to in real life."

"He smiled, recapturing her hand. “A very wise woman once told me—you just go on. I’ve never encountered any good advice that didn’t boil down to that, in the end. Not even my father’s.”"

"How can you stand me? I can’t even stand me."

"Even love is not as strong as habit, eh?"

"The trouble with oaths of the form, death before dishonor, is that eventually, given enough time and abrasion, they separate the world into just two sorts of people: the dead, and the forsworn."

"A tactical retreat is not a bad response to a surprise assault, you know. First you survive. Then you choose your own ground. Then you counterattack."

"Gardens were meant to be seen, smelled, walked through, grubbed in. A hundred objective measurements didn’t sum the worth of a garden; only the delight of its users did that."

"“You? I know you! You trust beyond reason.” She met his eyes steadily. “Yes. It’s how I get results beyond hope. As you may recall.”"

"“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?”"

"“No,” said his father, “you don’t have to smile. But if you’re really asking for advice from my accumulated experience, I’m saying Guard your honor. Let your reputation fall where it will. And outlive the bastards.”"

"There is no more hollow feeling than to stand with your honor shattered at your feet while soaring public reputation wraps you in rewards. That’s soul-destroying. The other way around is merely very, very irritating."

"Reputation is what other people know about you. Honor is what you know about yourself."

"He carefully ignored his simmering fury. Rage had no place in this. Calculation and implacable action did."

"“Now, you had that doctorate in Barrayaran history. Do any really interesting District succession squabbles spring to your memory?” “Lord Midnight the horse,” Galeni replied at once. “Who always voted ‘neigh.’”"

"“So…d’you like him? Or not?” Like was surely not an adequate word for this hash of delight and anger and longing, this profound respect laced with profound irritation, all floating on a dark pool of old pain. The past and the future, at war in her head. “I don’t know. Some of the time I do, yes, very much.” Another long pause. “Are you in love with him?” What Nikki knew of adult love, he’d mostly garnered off the holovid. Part of her mind readily translated this question as code for, Which way are you going to jump, and what will happen to me? And yet…he could not share or even imagine the complexity of her romantic hopes and fears, but he certainly knew how such stories were supposed to Come Out Right. “I don’t know. Some of the time. I think.” He favored her with his Big People Are Crazy look. In all, she could only agree."

"“Is there anything else I can do for you, Madame Vorsoisson?” Illyan called after her, as she stood outside to let Nikki exit. She leaned back toward him to breathe venomously, “Yes. Hang Vormoncrief.” He offered her a sincere salute. “I shall do my humble best, Madame.”"

"Lately I have come to believe that the principal difference between heaven and hell is the company you keep there."

"He lived, therefore he learned."

"I wanted to give you a victory. But by their essential nature triumphs can’t be given. They must be taken and the worse the odds and the fiercer the resistance, the greater the honor. Victories can’t be gifts."

"She wondered when not dull had become her prime criterion for mate selection."

"“Heavens, Kareen, you don’t have to pay me—” “Never,” said Kareen with passion, “ever suggest they don’t have to pay you. What they pay for, they’ll value. What they get for free, they’ll take for granted, and then demand as a right. Hold them up for all the market will bear.”"

"“There’s something to that in both directions,” said Ekaterin mildly. “Nothing is more guaranteed to make one start acting like a child than to be treated like one. It’s so infuriating. It took me the longest time to figure out how to stop falling into that trap.” “Yes, exactly,” said Kareen eagerly. “You understand! So—how did you make them stop?” “You can’t make them—whoever your particular them is—do anything, really,” said Ekaterin slowly. “Adulthood isn’t an award they’ll give you for being a good child. You can waste…years, trying to get someone to give that respect to you, as though it were a sort of promotion or raise in pay. If only you do enough, if only you are good enough. No. You have to just…take it. Give it to yourself, I suppose. Say, I’m sorry you feel like that, and walk away. But that’s hard.”"

"You don’t pay back your parents. You can’t. The debt you owe them gets collected by your children, who hand it down in turn. It’s a sort of entailment. Or if you don’t have children of the body, it’s left as a debt to your common humanity. Or to your God, if you possess or are possessed by one."

"When you give each other everything, it becomes an even trade. Each wins all."

"It is always easier to get forgiveness than permission."

"I could be a virgin again. What a dreadful thought."

"For her, this was a metaphor, he reminded himself. Though maybe he was a metaphor too, inside his head with the Black Gang. A metaphor gone metastatic. Metaphors could do that, under enough pressure."