A true Vor, Miles told himself severely, does not bury his face in his liegewoman's breasts and cry--even if he is at a convenient height for it.

Seems like half my anxiety dreams are about airports.

Think of the glory. Think of your reputation. Think how great it'll look on your next resume." On my cenotaph, you mean. Nobody will be able to collect enough of my scattered atoms to bury. You going to cover my funeral expenses, son?" Splendidly. Banners, dancing girls, and enough beer to float your coffin to Valhalla." - Miles coaxing Ky Tung to agree to an almost suicidal mission

When you can’t do something truly useful, you tend to vent the pent up energy in something useless but available, like snappy dressing.

I don't want power. I just object to idiots having power over me.

Some men just aren't cut out for paternity. Better they should realize it before and not after they become responsible for a son.

I don’t duel, boy. I kill as a soldier kills, which is as a butcher kills, as quickly, efficiently, and with as least risk to myself as I can arrange.