Elizabeth Bear Quotes
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Went up to the dressing room and got kitted, all crinolines and kilted skirts and my tits about falling out the top of my daffodil taffeta dress whenever I grabbed a breath.
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The kiss tasted of bitter sleep, the sourness of the wine. Something brought by each of them.
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One of the interesting things about programming people of all sorts to be more ethical is that it also makes them more ethical about the limits of programming people to be ethical.
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I should of been chewing on my words some, so everybody else would have had a better chance of swallowing them.
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So why a woman did the same should be judged different … well, women always is. Judged different, I mean.
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We think of forgiveness as a thing. An incident. A choice. But forgiveness is a process. A long, exhausting process. A series of choices that we have to make over, and over, and over again.
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You ain't gonna like what I have to tell you, but I'm gonna tell you anyway.
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Her neural pattern must remain intact for the time being, as it was still necessary that she stay herself. Changes to her identity would eventually become inevitable, but those would have to wait until she no longer needed the cloak of who she was.
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Aristotle, asked what those who tell lies gain by it, replied: That when they speak the truth they are not believed.
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Our earth was just one thin example of what was possible, and because it was possible, this history was inevitable.
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Every one of us is a minor tragedy. Most of us learn to cope.
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The tactic seemed to work, so he stuck to the same theme for the next few days, but there was only so much cryptography he could teach before it started squeezing out everything else.
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You ever hear somebody blithely say something so amazingly plastered over with bullshit it just makes your eyes bug?
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Amazing what people can fail to see when it’s a man doing it to a woman, even a respectable-looking woman.
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It’s funny, ain’t it, that nobody holds giving men the illusion they want about themselves against wives, though they hold it against the sisters. And nobody holds it against the illusionists, though they do against spiritualists. I’m not quite sure how to explain what I’m driving at, except it seems to me that these things is all linked.
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Though I am otherwise relentlessly normal, I have one peculiarity: I get along well only with people who are smarter than me.
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I don't know if it was the excitement that did it, but by the time we started our tiptoe across the icy, rutted skid yard to that shed Priya had quit shivering, but I was trembling like a marriage license in a young man's hand.
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I don’t have any control over what memories I get, when I get them. Except every single one of them is something I would have rather forgotten.
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Butter wouldn't have melted my smile, I swear.
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Sometimes the truth, told right, was the best lie.
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The only God is in the numbers and the fire; in the equations and the furnace.
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If you could disagree with kings, were gods so far above?
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Like the minor poet who knows the meanness of his gift, I am doomed to a lifetime of frustration: to be able to comprehend beauty, but not create it.
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If there was one vice his old masters could smell out from a thousand li away, it was thinking too well of yourself. Or the other form of vanity that was thinking too little.