Shadow of the Hegemon (Shadow, #2)

by Orson Scott Card

What a laugh, though. To think that one human being could ever really know another. You could get used to each other, get so habituated that you could speak their words right along with them, but you never knew why other people said what they said or did what they did, because they never even knew themselves. Nobody understands anybody.

As Ender had once said, most victories came from instantly exploiting your enemy’s stupid mistakes, and not from any particular brilliance in your own plan.

“Money and talent aren’t the same thing.” “That’s because you can inherit money that was earned by your ancestors,” said Sister Carlotta. “And everybody recognizes the value of money, while only select groups recognize the value of talent.”

I had more native talent for war than Ender had. But he was still the better commander. Was it because Ender grew up where he never worried about finding another meal, where people praised him and protected him? I grew up where I found a scrap of food I had to worry that another street kid might kill me for it. Shouldn’t that have made me the one who fought most desperately and Ender the one who held back?