One learns better than to hand one's choices to fear. With age, with every wound and scar, one learns. - Lois McMaster Bujold

The line of logic trailed off in confusion; he turned his thoughts impatiently from it. Mental wheel-spinning, as unproductive as philosophy class in college.

“I will consider this contention,” said Greenlaw dryly, with the For about ten seconds, after which I shall toss it out the nearest airlock hanging unspoken.

“I was just a little taken aback. That—that wasn’t the proposition I was expecting, is all. Excuse me. I fear I am become incurably low-minded.”
“You can’t help that, I’m sure,” Ethan said tolerantly. “Being female, and all that.”