Lois McMaster Bujold

"The parents of the preceding generation had taken galactic sex-selection technologies much too far in their foolish passion for male heirs, and the very sons they’d so cherished—Miles’s contemporaries—had inherited the resulting mating mess. Go to any formal party in Vorbarr Sultana these days, and you could practically taste the damned testosterone in the air, volatilized by the alcohol no doubt."

"He couldn’t make this go faster by pushing harder."

"Then time ran out—no. Time ran on. There was no end to time. But you come to the end of yourself, and time runs on, and leaves you."

"“Why are you here, Ivan?” He added under his breath, “and why couldn’t three bodyguards keep you out? Do I have to give orders to shoot to kill?” “My strength is great because my cause is just,” Vorpatril informed him. “My mother has sent me with a list of chores for you as long as my arm. With footnotes.”"

"I’ve seen planetary invasion plans less complex than what’s being booted about for this Imperial Wedding."

"I propose a treaty. You can have all the rest of the women in the universe. I just want this one."

"He must not be in one of his voluble moods. Either you can’t turn him on or can’t turn him off. Well, if there was a choice, taciturn was probably safer for the innocent bystanders than spring-wound."

"Mark had a Thing about Miles. Thing was not accepted psychoscientific terminology, she’d been informed by his twinkling therapist, but there was scarcely another term with the scope and flexibility to take in the whole complexity of the…Thing."

"You had to admire their honesty. No wonder they did so well at the sciences."

"“I thought he was a bit creepy.” Kareen stiffened. If you’d been cloned a slave, raised by terrorists to be a murderer, trained by methods tantamount to physical and psychological torture, and had to kill people to escape, you’d likely seem a little creepy too. If you weren’t a twitching puddle."

"Kareen was by no means sure Mark was a potential husband. He was still working his heart out on becoming a potential human being."

"She’d made it clear that Things Would Be Done Properly. The problem came in defining the term Properly."

"Oh yes. This was going to do well. If there was one thing Tsipis appreciated, it was a quick study. Ekaterin was one of those show once people whom Miles, in his mercenary days, had found more precious than unexpected oxygen in the emergency reserve."

"You couldn’t be that good and not know it, somewhere in your secret heart, however much you’d been abused into affecting public humility."

"My brother has this bad little habit of editing his version of reality to fit his audience."

"Miles was plenty expressive too, in his own unreliable way. Half of it was horseshit, but you were never sure which half."

"All Mark knew was that if it came down to a choice between Kareen and oxygen, he’d prefer to give up oxygen, thanks."

"“No money, but she’s beautiful, and her blood lines are impeccable.” “Are you choosing a wife, or buying a horse?”"

"“He told Mark he’s courting her in secret,” Martya put in to the Vorbrettens. “It’s a secret from her. We’re all still trying to figure that one out.” “Is the entire city party to my private conversations?” Miles snarled. “I’m going to strangle Mark.” Martya blinked at him with manufactured innocence. “Kareen had it from Mark. I had it from Ivan. Mama had it from Gregor. And Da had it from Pym. If you’re trying to keep a secret, Miles, why are you going around telling everyone?”"

"If you’re just now finding out that this world is unjust, well, you’re behind the times."

"You have to be careful who you let define your good."

"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."

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

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

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

"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."

"“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.”"

"“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.”"

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

"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."

"He lived, therefore he learned."

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

"“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.”"

"“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."

"“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.’”"

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

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

"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."

"“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.”"

"“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?”"

"“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.”"

"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."

"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."

"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."

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

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

"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.”"

"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."

"“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.”"

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