My home is not a place, it is people.

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

You try to give away what you want yourself.

Miles added it to his life's lessons list. Call it Rule 27B. Never make key tactical decisions while having electro-convulsive seizures.

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.

Cecil flashed a grin. "Quite. Plus your rather irritating habit of treating your superior officers as your, ah..." Cecil paused, apparently groping again for just the right word. "Equals?" Miles hazarded. "Cattle," Cecil corrected judiciously.

The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them.