Anything worth achieving is worth overachieving.

But when he’s cut, I bleed.

War is not its own end, except in some catastrophic slide into absolute damnation. It's peace that's wanted. Some better peace than the one you started with.

Hunting hawks did not belong in cages, no matter how much a man coveted their grace, no matter how golden the bars. They were far more beautiful soaring free. Heartbreakingly beautiful.

What you are is a question only you can answer.

When the souls rise up in glory, yours shall not be shunned nor sunderered, but shall be the prize of the gods' gardens. Even your darkness shall be treasured then, and all your pain made holy.

A true Vor, Miles told himself severely, does not bury his face in his liegewoman's breasts and cry--even if he is at a convenient height for it.

One foot in front of the other, wasn't that the grownup way of solving problems? Surely he ought to be a grownup at his age.

It was hell to be so tired, and still care.

Suicidal glory is the luxury of the irresponsible.

Bleeding ulcers run in my family, we give them to each other.

Children might or might not be a blessing, but to create them and then fail them was surely damnation.

Yes," Vorkosigan agreed, "I could take over the universe with this army if I could ever get all their weapons pointed in the same direction.

I don't confuse greatness with perfection. To be great anyhow is…the higher achievement.

The good face pain. But the great? They embrace it.

Miles is... Miles; close to a force of nature, climbing up out of his own pages and escaping subordination to any opinion of mine.

Lately I have come to believe that the principle difference between Heaven and Hell is the company you keep there....

[Koudelka] looked back, "You?! I know you! You trust beyond reason!" [Cordelia] met his eyes steadily, "Yes, it's how I get results beyond hope, as you may recall.

Do it for yourself. The universe will be around to collect its cut later.

I'd storm heaven for you, if I knew where it was.

I am not a fate worse than death, dammit!

My dinner party,' Miles grated. 'It's just breaking up.' And sinking. All souls feared lost.

Poets speak of hope in ladies smiles, but give me a smirk any day, I say.

If power was an illusion, wasn't weakness necessarily one also?