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Lois McMaster Bujold

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Vorreedi stated dangerously, "I am not a mushroom, Lieutenant Vorkosigan."
To be kept in the dark and fed on horseshit, right. Miles sighed inwardly.

 
Lois McMaster Bujold

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Miles started to track the vote, but by the time the roll came around to him, had taken to jotting repeated iterations of Lady Ekaterin Nile Vorkosigan intertwined with Lord Miles Naismith Vorkosigan in his fanciest handwriting down the margins of his flimsy.

 
Lois McMaster Bujold
 

"Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?"
I could risk no sort of answer by this time; my heart was full.
"Because," he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you — especially when you are near to me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land, come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly."

 
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Okonkwo was popularly called the "Roaring Flame." As he looked into the log fire he recalled the name. He was a flaming fire. How then could he have begotten a son like Nwoye, degenerate and effeminate? [...]
He sighed heavily, and as if in sympathy the smoldering log also sighed. And immediately Okonkwo's eyes were opened and he saw the whole matter clearly. Living fire begets cold, impotent ash. He sighed again, deeply.

 
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I am burning out. When I feel burned out I am immediately reminded of Frost's great poem: "The woods are lovely, dark and deep/ But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep/ and miles to go before I sleep." We have a lot of miles to go. A lot of miles to go. I think no Afghan president, even after my term is complete, will have an option on this account. I have to work very hard. You can't imagine how destroyed this country was. You can't imagine how dispirited this country had become. How miserable it had become. Unbelievable. When you go to the country, to the mountains where I was fighting the Taliban, I came across families and people who had nothing on earth. Nothing. And if they survived it worked. We have to provide them a better life. It will take time, it will take effort, and it will take very hard work. And no vacations.

 
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"Just what kind of noose are you offering to put round my neck, here? Is this treason?"
"Worse," Cazaril sighed. "Theology."

 
Lois McMaster Bujold
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