She said, I have no excuses, least of all for God. Like all tyrants, he is not worthy of the spit you would waste on negotiations. The deal we have is infinitely simpler—I don’t call him to account, a...
Potential, and the will to deploy it. That's all magic is in the end, you know.
People are sheep, Ringil raged. Moronic fucking sheep.
No, I’m calling you a gutless betrayer of your sex. I can see your husband’s angle, he’s a man, he’s got everything to gain from this crabshit. But you? You’ve thrown away centuries of political strug...
No way. You won’t catch Notley working weekends. Calls it the American disease, working all the hours God sends you.
Most people don’t like to think things through. Too much effort. They’d rather have the edited visceral highlights.
Living offworld seems to trigger some stubborn aspect of our capacity for superstition; it’s like we need our monsters and our hero saviors a lot more when we’re under alien skies.
I’ll tell you what I see, and at no charge. You know much of war, you carry its spirit stabbed deep inside you, just as he up there has the steel within him. Just as deeply buried, just as hard and un...
Every previous revolutionary movement in human history has made the same basic mistake. They’ve all seen power as a static apparatus, as a structure. And it’s not. It’s a dynamic, a flow system with t...
The sweat and bloodstained wood of the cross he died on. He kicks in the frosted-glass door of a coffee franchise off Wall Street and beats seven shades of damnation out of the money changers gathered...
It’s amazing how constant repetition can make even the most obvious truths irritating enough to disagree with.
Yes, and had your hotel proved slightly less psychotic, matters would never have got as far out of hand as they have.
What you feel is not yours. You need not own it. Creatures like these breed the fear in you as we fatten a buffalo calf, and with similar intent.
We’re more than what we do.
We live in bloodbath times... and looks like tonight is bath night.
We all get our dreams stamped on from time to time, right? And if it didn’t hurt, what kind of second-rate dreams would they be?
Two hundred and fifty years is a long time ... Do you have any concept of what happens to emotional bonds over such a period? .... No. Your life experience cannot possibly encompass what it is to love...
This enemy you cannot kill, I murmured. He nodded and finished the quote for me. You can only drive it back damaged into the depths and teach your children to watch the waves for its return.
The laugh tagged on the end of it is forced as well. I smile fractionally. Edged with old pain, but there’s a strange comfort to the way it hurts.
The essence of control is to remain hidden from view, is it not?