“What would you do? If you discovered or suspected such a horror?” His lips twisted. “That’s a tough one. A higher honor must underlie ours, the coun… - Lois McMaster Bujold

“We were told the Betans killed you, sir,” he said suspiciously.
“Yes, it’s a rumor I’ve had difficulty living down,” said Vorkosigan. “You can see it’s not true.”
“Your funeral was splendid,” said Koudelka. “You should have been there.”
“Next time, perhaps,” Vorkosigan grinned.
“Oh. You know I didn’t mean it that way, sir. Lieutenant Radnov made the best speech.”
“I’m sure. He’d probably been working on it for months.”

There is no more hollow feeling than to stand with your honor shattered at your feet while soaring public reputation wraps you in rewards. That's soul-destroying. The other way around is merely very, very irritating.

On the thought a blessed silence came, an empty clarity. He took it a first for utter desolation, but desolation was a type of free fall, perpetual and without ground below. This was stillness: balanced, solid, weirdly serene. No momentum to it at all, forward or backwards or sideways.

He lay drained of tension, not moving, and content to be so. The oddly stretched moment was like a bite of eternity, eaten on the run. Was this quiet place inside something new-grown, or had he just never stumbled upon it before? How could so vast a thing lay undiscovered for so long? His breathing slowed and deepened.