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

I began my writing career in a very isolated place and time.

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

When you choose an action, you choose the consequences of that action. When you desire a consequence you had damned well better take the action that would create it.

Not that I haven't leaped up into the blinding light of competence now and then. It's sustaining the altitude that defeats me.

Real destiny takes everything-the last drop of blood, and strip out your veins to be sure-and gives it back doubled. Quadrupled. A thousand-fold! But you can't give halves. You have to give it all. I know. I swear. I've come back from the dead to speak the truth to you. Real destiny gives you a mountain of life, and puts you on top of it.

Suicidal glory is the luxury of the irresponsible.