Killbox

Men always want to be remembered whereas women realize that requires being dead.

Now I know there are ways to belong to someone that don’t take anything away. A relationship shouldn’t impose limits—and if it does, then it’s wrong. A lover should help you exceed your potential, not clip your wings.

We’re bound by chains of love, but they don’t weigh us down. Instead, they allow us to be bigger and better than we are.

Just . . . love me, and let tomorrow look after itself.

His reply offers infinite solace in a single word. Always.

We're broken in complementary ways, thus rendering our damage comprehensible to each other.

Nobility and self-sacrifice sound wonderful in theory, but now he’s seen how it feels. A dead hero is still dead at the end of the day, and you’re still alone.

Men can be very stupid. We cease to value what we have until it's gone, and only then do we realize the gold we glimpsed in distant hills pales as dross compared to treasure we had in hand.

I'm Sirantha Jax, and I have had enough.

After people have gone, you forget their faults, and you recall the ideal more than the person.

Grimspace is a bitch mistress who carries unearthly delight in one hand and a crop in the other.

I always know exactly where you are in a room", he tells me without looking round. "I know how many times you run your fingers through your hair. I know when you look at me as well as the precise instant you look at anyone else.

There are shades of warmth from the sweet ember of possibility to the roaring fire that fills your soul.

There’s always room in the heart for others, too.

I never felt beautiful unless I was fighting.

There's no guarantee I'll survive it, but that's sort of the human condition, isn't it? In the end, nobody gets out alive.

Some of the smugglers' vessels are former pleasure yachts, hijacked - and never renamed - out of some overdeveloped sense of irony or possibly...sheer laziness. You can never tell with pirates.

I choose not to serve the Conglomerate as an ambassador, but that doesn't mean I've given up on humanity. Surrender isn't a word in my personal lexicon; there are other ways and means. If nothing else, Ithiss-Tor taught me there's always a choice.

She reaches for me then, angry in her tenderness as only Dina can be. "Not as a navigator, you dumb bitch.

Men can be very stupid,” he says bitterly. “We cease to value what we have until it’s gone, and only then do we realize the gold we glimpsed in distant hills paled as dross compared to treasure we had in hand.

Most people might think I’d mind that I’m no longer unique, no longer the sole warden of this strange gift. Instead I feel free. In the grand scheme, it matters less what I do now, and so, conversely, my choices matter more.

What happened?” “March went back for you,” Vel says. Dina adds, “And I went for him.” “And I went out for her,” Hit finishes. There’s something sweet, if suicidal, in this. We’re bound by chains of love, but they don’t weigh us down. Instead, they allow us to be bigger and better than we are.

...I touch Vel’s arm to stay him. He sits down on the bed beside me, head cocked in inquiry. Thank you, I write. Vel rises and performs a lovely wa. White wave will never forsake brown bird.

I nod. “Shall we go raise some hell?” March grins at me, looking more like himself than he has for months. “I thought you’d never ask.

You could call what comes next mercy killing, but it’s not, really. There’s no mercy in any of us. I just want them to stop twitching. There’s

How many good soldiers will die, saving these civilians? And how many people will shrug later and say: That’s their job.

A new voice pops up on the comm, relayed from the station. March. "What the frag are you doing, Triumph? Who's at the helm? I didn't give clearance for a pleasure cruise." "Can't talk, Commander," Hit answers smoothly. "We're busy saving your ass.

I nod. "Shall we go raise some hell?" March grins at me, looking more like himself than he has for months. "I thought you'd never ask.