The good face pain. But the great? They embrace it.

Miles is... Miles; close to a force of nature, climbing up out of his own pages and escaping subordination to any opinion of mine.

And this was your friend?" Cordelia raised her eyebrows. "Seems to me the only difference between your friends and your enemies is how long the stand around chatting before they shoot you.

Change is possible.' 'Change is inevitable.

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

A good friend of my son's is a son to me.

If there's no game, isn't winning a pretty meaningless concept?