James S. A. Corey Quotes

It was as easy as keying in a door code. Somehow he felt that arming fusion bombs to detonate around him should have been more difficult.

He considered recording it. His suit would be able to make a simple visual file and stream the data out in real time. But no. This was his moment. His and Julia’s. The rest of humanity could guess what it had been like if they cared.

If Fred couldn’t build himself a peace treaty, the OPA would never win against the discipline and unity of an inner planet navy. But they would also never lose. War without end. Well, what was history if not that? And how would having the stars change anything?

Miller was staring at him like an entomologist trying to figure out exactly where the pin went.

And now they were making music from the screams of the dying. Of the dead. The were dancing to it in the low-rent clubs. What it must be like, Miller thought, to be young and soulless. But no. That wasn’t fair. Diogo was a good kid. He was just naive. The universe would take care of that, given a little time.

Stop," Holden said. "I don't care. I don't want to hear any more of your stories about how being a cop makes you wiser and deeper and able to face the truth about humanity. As far as I can tell, all it did was break you. Okay?
Yeah, okay.
Dresden and his Protogen buddies thought they could choose who lives and who dies. That sound familiar? And don't tell me it's different this time, because everyone says that, every time. And it's not.

Liquor doesn’t make you feel better. Just makes you not so worried about feeling bad.

Holden decided that he was okay with not feeling any remorse for them. The moral complexity of the situation had grown past his ability to process it, so he just relaxed in the warm glow of victory instead.

There was life out there. They had proof of it now. And the proof came in the shape of a weapon, so what did that tell him?

“We regret the necessity of this action,” she said to everyone everywhere. “But in the cause of freedom, there can be no compromise.” That’s what it’s come to, Miller thought, rubbing a hand across his chin. Pogroms after all. Cut off just a hundred more heads, just a thousand more heads, just ten thousand more heads, and then we’ll be free.

There's a right thing to do," Holden said.
You don't have a right thing, friend," Miller said. "You've got a whole plateful of maybe a little less wrong.

When, Miller wondered, does someone stop being human? There had to be a moment, some decision that you made and before it, you were one person, and after it, someone else...If he’d seen it in someone else—Muss, Havelock, Sematimba—he wouldn’t have taken more than a minute to realize they’d gone off the rails. Since it was him, he had taken longer to notice. But Holden was right. Somewhere along the line, he’d lost himself.

This was the kind of man who’d killed Julie, Miller thought. Stupid. Shortsighted. A man born with a sense for raw opportunity where his soul should have been.

All bluster, no balls.

He probed himself like a doctor searching for inflammation. Did it hurt here? Did he feel the loss there? He didn’t. There was only a sense of relief so profound it approached giddiness.