One learns better than to hand one's choices to fear. With age, with every wound and scar, one learns.

Growing up, I have discovered over time, is rather like housework: never finished.

Have you ever heard the phrase, Living well is the best revenge?" "Where I come from, someone's head in a bag is generally considered the best revenge

I am not schizoid. A little manic-depressive, maybe." "'Know thyself.'" "We try, sir.

History does not so much repeat as echo, I suppose.

My dinner party,' Miles grated. 'It's just breaking up.' And sinking. All souls feared lost.

They stared at her curiously, and she caught snatches of conversation in two or three languages. It wasn't hard to guess their content, and she smiled a bit primly. Youth, it appeared, was full of illusions as to how much sexual energy two people might have to spare while hiking forty or so kilometers a day, concussed, stunned, diseased, on poor food and little sleep, alternating caring for a wounded man with avoiding becoming dinner for every carnivore within range - and with a coup to plan for the end.