"Take heart, sir," Cazaril consoled him. "It is not your destiny today to win a royacy for your son. It is to win an <i>empire</i> for your grandson." - Lois McMaster Bujold

Growing up, I have discovered over time, is rather like housework: never finished.

Gardens were meant to be seen, smelled, walked through, grubbed in. A hundred objective measurements didn't sum the worth of a garden; only the delight of its users did that.

“Ivan, one of these days somebody is going to pull out a weapon and plug you, and you’re going to die in bewilderment, crying, ‘What did I say? What did I say?’”
“What did I say?” asked Ivan indignantly.