“Let me tell you something that I learned from my youth, from a sage called the Road Runner. You can walk off a cliff and the air will hold you. Only, don't look down.”
“Did you know, the man who invented the atomic bomb once said that keeping peace through deterrence was like keeping two scorpions in one bottle? You can picture that, right? They know they can't sting without getting stung. They can't kill without getting killed. And you'd think that would stop them." He gave the book another boot, and it flipped closed with a snick. "But it doesn't." He looked up and his eyes were the color of Cherenkov radiation, the color of an orbital weapon. "You've got a bit of nerve, little scorpion. All I did was invent the bottle.”
“No, blowing up cities doesn't work, not in the long term. You've got to find something that the people in charge aren't willing to give up. A price they aren't willing to pay.
Which leads us to Talis's first rule for stopping wars: make it personal.”
“I'm not a cruel man. I mean, technically I'm not a man at all.”
“There was a space inside me, cupped and still. It was small as cupped hands; it was large as the sky. It was untouched and it was touch itself. It was empty and it was full. I held love there, like a treasure. I held my own name.”
“You made tools of us. Have you never considered: the thing of a tool is that anyone may use it.”
“The root of holiness, it turns out, is to do things deliberately.”
“I wished for impossible things. It was never going to have been a fairy tale for us. There are no fairy tales about two princesses.”
“and of course people started shooting, because that’s what passes for problem-solving among humans. See, guys, this is why you can’t have nice things. It”
“It's a strange word, "twilight." It makes me think of endings, of things done or left undone, of things over, of evening. But there are two twilights in every day, and one of them does not foretell darkness, but dawn.”
“My mother wanted out of politics. And I'll tell you, she got as far out as she could. Down nigh the Licking River."
"The Licking—" said Da-Xia, as if she couldn't believe her luck.
Elián scrubbed a hand over his face. "The south fork."
"Have you at this point heard all the jokes about that?" asked Grego.
"I'll bet there are more," said Thandi.
"Shut up," said Elián, majestically.”
“Then he said: "Y'all really took that Socratic method shit to heart."
"The benefits," I intoned, "of a Precepture education ."
"Yes," deadpanned Grego. "We were raised on Latin and Greek instead of love.”
“Elián, of course, missed it. "How advanced do you need your murders to be? Because I saw Grego die. It didn't look all that hard."
Talis smiled. "Keep snarling at me, Elián Palnik, and we'll see how hard I can make it.”
“He was going to die. He deserved a chance to do it on his terms. No matter what it cost us.”
“How useless are guns against those who are fearless. How foolish, to set force against innocence. Their own strength made them small. And”
“It was strange. We were from opposing nations that were at the brink of war. We were days away from dying for that war. And yet I would have done almost anything for Elián.”
“Stop the press," said Talis. "Ha! I haven't heard that in centuries. 'Stop the presses!' But do." The smile was sharp-edged. "Or I'll have your head on pikes.”
“I- I. Sorry. This is what my father would call a fucking unfortunate image.”
“Cranes traditionally represent a wish for peace. I closed my eyes and wished. Uselessly. Hard.”
“Even as the nannies came into heat—one could tell because they grew louder than roosters and started to sexually assault the water barrels—I”
“Why would I come back to you?”
“It was once thought that if you died in your dreams you died in life. Thanks to dreamlock, we know this is not true. Most people can die at least six times before something them gives way.”
“There is many a bodily ailment inflicted on this very score, to be a clog to prevent sin. O bear them patiently upon this consideration. Basil was sorely grieved with an inveterate headache; he earnestly prayed it might be removed; God removed it. No sooner was he freed of this clog, but he felt the inordinate motions of lust, which made him pray for his headache again. So it might be with many of us, if our clogs were off.”
“I was free to appreciate the quiet and the way the yellowish-gray light of the rising sun entered the room, turning everything from black and white to color. The journey from Kansas to Oz right in my own kitchen.”
“We wanted to be accepted by our fellows, especially the influential natural leaders among us; and the ethos of my peers was – until my last year at Oundle – anti-intellectual. You had to pretend to be working less hard than you actually were. Native ability was respected; hard work was not. It was the same on the sports field. Sportsmen were admired more than scholars in any case. But if you could achieve sporting brilliance without training, so much the better. Why is native ability more admired than hard graft? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“Haska—a dim legendary figure of a generation ago, who went back up the mountain and cleared six acres of brush in the tiny valley that took his name. He broke the soil, reared stone walls and a house, and planted apple trees. And already the site of the house is undiscoverable, the location of the stone walls may be deduced from the configuration of the landscape, and I am renewing the battle, putting in angora goats to browse away the brush that has overrun Haska's clearing and choked Haska's apple trees to death. So I, too, scratch the land with my brief endeavour and flash my name across a page of legal script ere I pass and the page grows musty.”
“But you’re supposed to play music, obviously,” said Victoria.
Lawrence looked at her in surprise.
“You mean it? I thought you hated it.”
“I do mean it,” said Victoria. She felt pretty shocked herself. “It’s annoying sometimes—well, a lot of the time, really—but it’s obviously the thing you’re best at, so why shouldn’t you do it?” Embarrassed at how happy Lawrence looked, she tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her dirty pajamas. “I mean, it’s only logical, isn’t it?”
“If you weren’t, well, you—I’d want to kiss you right now.”
It was fortunate that the room was so dark. Victoria’s cheeks turned bright red.
“Well,” she said. “Well.”
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