I am not a fate worse than death, dammit!

There is a sad disconnectedness that overcomes a library when its owner is gone.

If you make it plain you like people, it's hard for them to resist liking you back.

Mia Maz glanced aside in concern at his muffled snort. "Are you all right?" "Yes. Sorry," he whispered. "I'm just having an attack of limericks." Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip; only her deepening dimple betrayed her. "Shhh," she said, with feeling.

Don't wish to be normal. Wish to be yourself. To the hilt. Find out what you're best at, and develop it, and hopscotch your weaknesses. Wish to be great at whatever you are.

History does not so much repeat as echo, I suppose.

Honor is what you know about yourself.