Incolore sighed. “The loyalty of the systematically betrayed. Is there anything sadder?” - Michael Swanwick

Everything was dying, yet death did not suffice. Life had hidden resources. In a thousand ways it was concentrating strength, hoarding its energies in seed, chrysalis, and nectar, preparing for the warrior sweep out of exile that would undo the defeat of winter. Spring was implicit.

She was one of those people who discredited their own ideas by the force with which they argued them.

The bureaucrat was sensitive to this kind of friction. It arose wherever the moving edge of technology control touched on local pride.