Oh, was that liquor of yours a stimulant?" asked Elena. "I wondered why he didn't fall asleep." "Couldn't you tell?" chuckled Mayhew. "Not really." Miles twisted his head to take in Elena's upside-down worried face, and smile in weak reassurance. Sparkly black and purple whirlpools clouded his vision. Mayhew's laughter faded. "My God," he said hollowly, "you mean he's like that all the time?

Children might or might not be a blessing, but to create them and then fail them was surely damnation.

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.

I'm sorry. I can love you. I can grieve for you, or with you. I can share your pain. But I cannot judge you.

The will to be stupid is a very powerful force, but there are always alternatives.

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.

We should have taken our chances back then, when we were young and beautiful and didn't even know it.