| how's the creme de meth suiting you, sir? |
[24 Mar 2006|03:04pm] |
i hereby dedicate today to Lois McMaster Bujold, my absolute most favorite science fiction author ever (so sorry Asimov, you're yesterday's news).
last night i stayed up until five in the morning rereading (for like the ninth time) The Warrior's Apprentice. and i kept finding both hilarious and profound quotes that had always struck me but i had never bothered to write down before. now i have.
"How do I do a heart transplant, he wondered, in the dark, by feel, without anesthetics?"
"'Oser was right to keep you two clowns as far away from the real combat as possible. Only the comedy team of Auson and Thorne could have captured themselves.'"
"A true Vor, Miles told himself severely, does not bury his face in his liegewoman's breasts and cry - even if he is at a convenient height for it."
"Miles could have sworn the variegated fuzzy patches growing on the bathroom walls moved, when he was not looking directly at them. Perhaps it was as effect of fatigue. He was careful not to touch them when he showered. He set the lights to maximum UV when he was done, and sealed the door, reminding himself sternly that he had not demanded the Sergeant's noctural company on the grounds that there were Things in his closet since he was four."
"He groped for one of his grandfather's wine connoiseur phrases as a conversation opener, but the only one that sprang to his memory was "thin as piss," which didn't seem exactly inviting."
"He gave it a squeeze, and tried to snap it out of the air. Bright red fruit drink marinated his eyebrows, chin, and tunic front. He swore under his breath, and floated off in search of a towel."
"His stomach oozed around his abdominal cavity like a tortured amoeba, throwing out pseudopods of pain and the vacuole of an acid belch. You are a psychosomatic illusion, Miles assured it."
"Heroes. They sprang up around him like weeds. A carrier, he was seemingly unable to catch the disease he spread."
"'The histories of those times were all written by minstrels and poets. You try and think of a word that rhymes with "bleeding ulcer."'"
"'Other people,' Miles groaned, 'get to hallucinate orgies and giant cicadas and things. What do I get? Relatives. I can see relatives when I'm conscious. It's not fair...'"
"Let's see, Miles thought, the Pied Piper of Hamlin led all the rats into the river - he looked back - and all the children he led to a mountain of gold. What would he have done if the rats and the children had been inextricably mixed?"
"He no longer bled inside, the surgeon had assured him. Couldn't prove it now."
"When the time came to leap in faith, whether you had your eyes open or closed or screamed all the way down or not made no practical difference."
"'You can touch hallucinations. Hallucinations can even touch you.'"
"Mayhew snorted. 'Your forward momentum is going to lead all your followers over a cliff someday.' He paused, beginning to grin. 'On the way down, you'll convince 'em all they can fly.' He stuck his fists in his armpits, and waggled his elbows. 'Lead on, my lord. I'm flapping as hard as I can.'"
"'I don't want all the marbles,' said Miles impatiently. 'I don't want any of the marbles. It's death for me to be caught with marbles in my possession, remember?'"
"'You know, if you're trying to take a roomful of people by surprise, it's a lot easier to hit your targets if you don't yell going through the door.'"
"Hunting hawks do not belong in cages, no matter how much a man covets their grace, no matter how golden the bars."
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