Defiant

As a kid, I’d have said that courage destroys fear. Now, I’d have said that fear is what lets us be able to be courageous.

I don’t think most people want to do what’s right. That’s what makes doing the right thing noble. It’s a conscious choice. A hard one. If it were easy, then why would we respect it so much?

Change is pain that fades,

Hi!” he said through a speaker on the front. “I’ve been resurrected! Do I start a religion now, or do I wait for you to do it for me? That part has always confused me.

In the stories, she leaves because she no longer fits in where she began." "In the stories, yes," I whispered. "But Jorgen, there's one huge flaw in all of those stories." "Which is?" "None of them had you.

The love of the oppressed found the souls of the broken, and the result was light.

Rig,” I declared to him, “I need science.” “You need therapy.” “You need better jokes.” “You need a better sense of humor.” We grinned at each other.

Sneaky, she repeated. Have become spy slug!

I’m almost ninety, you know. I was starting to think I wouldn’t get to tear down any galactic empires in my lifetime, which would have been positively tragic.

You didn't get to choose what others did. The world could be chaos, and you still needed to find your way through it.

When I was in there…lost…you were my anchor. You are the lighthouse that brought me home.

Bless your stars,” Kimmalyn said. “You always say that,” Nedd replied. “I keep trying to figure out what it means. Which stars are mine?

I saw people living real lives, Jorgen. Our enemies, but they were just people. Building families. Living. I realized I was the broken one, not them.

Who were you going to assassinate, anyway?” he asked. “You were ten.” “Ninjas,” I said. “Gran-Gran had been telling stories, and…well, I assumed my future would include far more ninjas than it has.” “I might be able to fix that,” Hesho said, hovering down beside me. “Assuming the translator has the right term, in our language, for the ancient warrior assassins of lore.” “You have ninjas?” I asked him. “Kitsen ninjas?” “Indeed,” he said. “As the Masked Exile, I am technically part of their tradition. It’s not as practical an art as the stories make it sound—more a method of training the mind and soul. But as we bring peace to mind and soul, we learn to bring stillness to the world around us.” I was barely listening. Fifteen-centimeter-tall. Furry. Ninjas. Scud. The universe was awesome after all.

It was a perky, faintly masculine voice—excitable and… “M-Bot?” I whispered. “What in the heavens?” I’m a ghost, he said in my mind. Boo!

What you experience is yours to cherish. Each sight a gemstone for your personal collection, light crystallized in your mind, made solid and captured to forever cherish.

Empathy for an enemy's pain was good, but you couldn't let that lead you into the fallacy of accepting their actions.

A woman had to orient the world as best she could according to the way she saw things.

This makes it difficult for you when dealing with those who have lived in privilege,” he said. “We spend our lives learning to plan. Often, those in power stay in power because of such luxuries—it is not that they are smarter or more capable, but that they’ve had the opportunity to think about tomorrow, not just today.

As a kid, I'd have said that courage destroys fear. Now, Id have said that fear is what lets us be able to be courageous.

At the end of the story…at the end of the story, the hero came home, and found herself transformed…into someone who didn’t belong, and could never belong, with the people she’d left behind. It was the same in almost every story I’d read.

Do you know,” I said, “what happens to the hero at the end of the stories?” “Depends on the story.” “They go home,” I whispered.

The purpose of life was to learn, and the way to learn was through excitement, emotion, and change. Boredom was the path to complacency, and complacency the path to stagnation.

Sure, okay, fine, he replied. I can wait. It’s not like I’m going to get more dead. Please don’t call an exorcist, if you have any. I understand that would be bad. You’re not actually a ghost. I don’t know that—and you don’t either. So, boo! Say hi to Jorgen for me.

The raging river is never kind to the lone leaf.

Rig,' I declared to him, 'I need science.' 'You need therapy.' 'You need better jokes.' 'You need a better sense of humor.

I tried a bite, and found it strangely soft. I’d assumed steak to be a warrior’s meal—but I was accustomed to meat being stringy and tough. That seemed like what a warrior should eat. Not this soft, melting pillow-meat.

With the help of so many, he walked the path on his own and found that you could get through darkness. Though sometimes a friendly light was required to show the way.

I imagined the anguish they felt being forced to defend their city, knowing each shot might kill people they knew, people they loved. The enemy pilots were doing their jobs. And sometimes the job sucked.