Lois McMaster Bujold Quotes - Page 7

Quotes about:

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

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Party, Soul, Dinner

  Lois McMaster Bujold (2000). “A Civil Campaign”, p.101, Baen Books

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• I am not a fate worse than death, dammit!

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Fate

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• The Imperial Service could win a war without coffee, but would prefer not to have to.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  War, Coffee, Winning

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• It is always easier to get forgiveness than permission.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Easier, Permission

  Lois McMaster Bujold (2000). “A Civil Campaign”, p.77, Baen Books

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• Exile, for no other motive than ease, would be the last defeat, with no seed of future victory in it.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Victory, Would Be, Ease

  Lois McMaster Bujold (1999). “Cordelia's Honor”, p.158, Baen Books

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• I wanted to give you a victory. But by their essential nature triumphs can’t be given.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Giving, Victory, Triumph

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• I've described my usual writing process as scrambling from peak to peak on inspiration through foggy valleys of despised logic. Inspiration is better when you can get it.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Inspiration, Writing, Usual

  Lois McMaster Bujold, Bujold (1997). “Young Miles”, Baen Books

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• A price is something you get.
  A cost is something you lose.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Cost, Loses, Values

  Lois McMaster Bujold (1999). “Cordelia's Honor”, p.128, Baen Books

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• Hi, I'm a hero, but I can't tell you why. It's classified.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Hero, I Can

  "Cetaganda". Book by Lois McMaster Bujold, 1996.

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• 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.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Sorry, Eye, Feelings

  33 Copy quote

• For a while, I thought I was going mad. At last, I became reconciled to my despair. The medications helped, too, I thought, sir.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Mad, Despair, Lasts

  Lois McMaster Bujold (2000). “A Civil Campaign”, p.195, Baen Books

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• I know girls who pine for it. They like to play dress-up and pretend being Vor ladies of old, rescued from menace by romantic Vor youths. For some reason they never play 'dying in childbirth', or 'vomiting your guts out from the red dysentery', or 'weaving till you go blind and crippled from arthritis and dye poisoning', or 'infanticide'. Well, they do die romantically of disease sometimes, but somehow it's always an illness that makes you interestingly pale and everyone sorry and doesn't involve losing bowel control.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Girl, Sorry, Play

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• [Koudelka] looked back, "You?! I know you! You trust beyond reason!" [Cordelia] met his eyes steadily, "Yes, it's how I get results beyond hope, as you may recall.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Eye, May, Reason

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• Whether you function as welders or inspectors, the laws of physics are implacable lie-detectors. You may fool men. You will never fool the metal.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Lying, Men, Law

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• Oh, was that liquor of yours a stimulant?" asked Elena. "I wondered why he didn't fall asleep." "Couldn't you tell?" chuckled Mayhew. "Not really." Miles twisted his head to take in Elena's upside-down worried face, and smile in weak reassurance. Sparkly black and purple whirlpools clouded his vision. Mayhew's laughter faded. "My God," he said hollowly, "you mean he's like that all the time?

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Laughter, Fall, Mean

  Lois McMaster Bujold, Bujold (1997). “Young Miles”, Baen Books

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• Your Reverence, I do not hate any man in this world enough to inflict the results of my prayers upon him.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Prayer, Hate, Men

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

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Winning, Games, Ifs

  Lois McMaster Bujold (1996). “Memory (Hardcover)”, p.50, Baen Books

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• His outflung hands traced over the threads of his rug, passed loop by loop through some patient woman's hands. Or maybe she hadn't been patient. Maybe she'd been tired, or irritated, or distracted, or hungry, or angry. Maybe she had been dying. But her hands had kept moving, all the same.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Moving, Tired, Hands

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• Yes," Vorkosigan agreed, "I could take over the universe with this army if I could ever get all their weapons pointed in the same direction.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Army, Weapons, If I Could

  Lois McMaster Bujold (1999). “Cordelia's Honor”, p.41, Baen Books

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• Read, or you will be missing something extraordinary.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Missing, Missing Something, Extraordinary

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• They stared at her curiously, and she caught snatches of conversation in two or three languages. It wasn't hard to guess their content, and she smiled a bit primly. Youth, it appeared, was full of illusions as to how much sexual energy two people might have to spare while hiking forty or so kilometers a day, concussed, stunned, diseased, on poor food and little sleep, alternating caring for a wounded man with avoiding becoming dinner for every carnivore within range - and with a coup to plan for the end.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Sleep, Caring, Men

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

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Escaping, Climbing Up, Pages

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• 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.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Habit, Miles, Plus

  Lois McMaster Bujold (1990). “Vorkosigan's Game”

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• But have you ever overheard two women discussing men? Men are crude liars, comparing their drabs, but women - I'd rather have [an] anatomist dissect me alive than to listen to the things the ladies say about us when they think they are alone.

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Liars, Men, Thinking

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

  Lois McMaster Bujold

  Pain, Faces, Embrace

  Lois McMaster Bujold (1999). “Cordelia's Honor”, p.170, Baen Books

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