My home is not a place, it is people. - Lois McMaster Bujold

“Do you fear the gods will destroy you?”
That disturbing smile again. “That is not a fear. That is a prayer.”
“Or…do you fear their punishment? That they would plunge your soul into some eternal torment?”
Wencel leaned forward, up on his toes. “That,” he breathed in Ingrey’s ear, “would be redundant.”

“We used to call the biowar intelligence and analysis section at ImpSec HQ the Nightmare Barn,” Miles reminisced. “In a large building full of pale, overcaffeinated men, they had a reputation as being the pastiest and the twitchiest.”

Aren’t family squabbles jolly fun? Bleeding ulcers run in my family, we give them to each other.