His outflung hands traced over the threads of his rug, passed loop by loop through some patient woman’s hands. Or maybe she hadn’t been patient. Maybe she’d been tired, or irritated, or distracted, or hungry, or angry. Maybe she had been dying. But her hands had kept moving, all the same.
One foot in front of the other, wasn’t that the grownup way of solving problems? Surely he ought to be a grownup at his age.
The world is made by the people who show up for the job.
Mia Maz glanced aside in concern at his muffled snort. “Are you all right?” “Yes. Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m just having an attack of limericks.” Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip; only her deepening dimple betrayed her. “Shhh,” she said, with feeling.
Your father calls you to his court. You need not pack. You go garbed in glorious raiment. He waits eagerly by his palace doors to welcome you, and has prepared a place at the high table, by his side, in the company of the great-souled, honored, and best-beloved.
I take it as a man’s duty to restrain himself.
I do think, half of what we call madness is just some poor slob dealing with pain by a strategy that annoys the people around him.
It was never what I wanted to buy that held my heart’s hope. It was what I wanted to be.
Ignorance is not stupidity, but it might as well be. And I do not like feeling stupid.
When you choose an action, you choose the consequences of that action.
I have a catch-phrase to describe my plot-generation technique – ‘What’s the worst possible thing I can do to these people?’
Any communitys arm of force – military, police, security – needs people in it who can do necessary evil, and yet not be made evil by it. To do only the necessary and no more. To constantly question the assumptions, to stop the slide into atrocity.
Endure pain, find joy, and make your own meaning, because the universe certainly isn’t going to supply it.
There was no limit to what one man might do, if he gave all, and held back nothing.
Suicidal glory is the luxury of the irresponsible.
If the truth doesn’t save us, what does that say about us?
On the sixth day God saw He couldn’t do it all, so He created ENGINEERS.
If power was an illusion, wasn’t weakness necessarily one also?
Children might or might not be a blessing, but to create them and then fail them was surely damnation.
War is not its own end, except in some catastrophic slide into absolute damnation. It’s peace that’s wanted. Some better peace than the one you started with.