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?
Lois McMaster BujoldI've got forward momentum. There's no virtue in it. It's just a balancing act. I don't dare stop.
Lois McMaster BujoldWe should have taken our chances back then, when we were young and beautiful and didn't even know it.
Lois McMaster BujoldMost people go through their whole lives without killing anybody. False argument.
Lois McMaster BujoldGuard your honor. Let your reputation fall where it will. And outlive the bastards.
Lois McMaster BujoldHis 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.
Lois McMaster Bujold