Skyward

“You get to choose who you are. Legacy, memories of the past, can serve us well. But we cannot let them define us. When heritage becomes a box instead of an inspiration, it has gone too far.”

“You get to choose who you are. Legacy, memories of the past, can serve us well. But we cannot let them define us. When heritage becomes a box instead of an inspiration, it has gone too far.”

“People need stories, child. They bring us hope, and that hope is real.”

“It turns out that strange little girls grow up to be strange young women.”

“Claim the stars, Spensa.”

And the warrior’s way was not to run from failure, but to own up to it and do better.

And the warrior’s way was not to run from failure, but to own up to it and do better.

“Not that I require affirmation of any sort, as my emotions are mere simulations … but you are listening to me, right?”

“I’m listening,” I said. “I’m just thinking.”

“That is good. I should not like to be maintained by one who lacks brain functions.”

- ive only read two other books by him, so i might not know him as an author yet.
- this is my first time reading a YA/sci-fi book of his, so maybe im just not used to it.
- this story feels like plenty of other books i have read before, some of which do this type of story better.

- ive only read two other books by him, so i might not know him as an author yet.
- this is my first time reading a YA/sci-fi book of his, so maybe im just not used to it.
- this story feels like plenty of other books i have read before, some of which do this type of story better.

“That music the water makes,” she said. “Isn’t it the most wonderful sound ever?”
“The most wonderful sound ever is the lamentations of my enemies, screaming my name toward the heavens with ragged, dying voices.”

“That music the water makes,” she said. “Isn’t it the most wonderful sound ever?”
“The most wonderful sound ever is the lamentations of my enemies, screaming my name toward the heavens with ragged, dying voices.”

“Is my father why I’m such a mess of anger, bravado, and temper? Is the fact that they call him a coward the reason I walk around with my sword in hand, screaming that I’ll make a pile of everyone’s skulls, then stand on that to help me behead the people who were too tall for me to reach?”
Kimmalyn smiled fondly.
“Bless my stars?” I asked her.
“Every single one of them, Spensa. Every single bouncing star.”

"You have large twin destructor emitters on each wing, along with a light-lance turret underneath. That’s as much firepower as our larger ships. You’re a warship.”
“Clearly not,” M-Bot said. “I’m here to categorize fungi. Didn’t you listen to my last orders? I am not supposed to get into fights.”
“Then why do you have guns?”
“For shooting large and dangerous beasts who might be threatening my fungus specimens,” M-Bot said. “Obviously.”

“People need stories, child. They bring us hope, and that hope is real. If that's the case, what does it matter whether people in them actually lived?”

“Sometimes, the answers we need don't match the questions we're asking." He looked up at me. "And sometimes, the coward makes fools of wiser men.”

“You have large twin destructor emitters on each wing, along with a light-lance turret underneath. That’s as much firepower as our larger ships. You’re a warship.”
“Clearly not,” M-Bot said. “I’m here to categorize fungi. Didn’t you listen to my last orders? I am not supposed to get into fights.”
“Then why do you have guns?”
“For shooting large and dangerous beasts who might be threatening my fungus specimens,” M-Bot said. “Obviously.”

“Then [Hurl] sat up, holding out her fist. "Not cowards. No backing down. Brave until the end, right Spin? A pact."
I met her fist with mine. "Brave to the end.”

“...human beings need someone friendly to listen to them when they’re grieving. So feel free to talk to me. I will be friendly. You have nice shoes.”
“Is that the only thing you notice about people?”
“I’ve always wanted shoes. They’re the sole piece of clothing that makes any sense, assuming ideal environmental conditions. They don’t play into your strange and nonsensical taboos about not letting anyone see your—”
“Is this really the only thing you can think of to comfort someone who is grieving?”
“It was number one on my list.” Great.
“The list has seven million entries. Do you want to hear number two?”
“Is it silence?”
“That didn’t even make the list.”
“Move it to number two.”
“All right, I . . . Oh.”