The Urth of the New Sun

by Gene Wolfe

And I have heard it said that if it were not thus, the roaring of the suns would deafen the universe.

She rubbed the skin at the corners of her eyes with her forefingers, the woman’s equivalent of male head scratching.

there is no better way to attain intimacy than to permit them to talk, and to listen to them.

Those who have never fought suppose that the deserter who flies the field is consumed by shame. He is not, or he would not desert; with only trifling exceptions, battles are fought by cowards afraid to run.

“My name is Severian. This woman is Burgundofara. I am a bad man trying to be a good one.”

THEY HAD EXPECTED NEITHER OF US—THERE WERE NO extra places set at the table.

Yep. No one expected the Killer Zombie and his victim to come back for the breakfast. How inconvenient.

Put the woman’s lodging and breakfast to Captain Hadelin’s score and see what mine comes to.”

Bastard xD

“I know!” Pega broke in. “I’ve seen his portrait and his bust. They’re in the Hypogeum Abscititious, where the Autarch put them when she married again. He looked like he’d cut your throat whistling.” I felt that someone had cut my own.

I woke and found I was hot and flushed, and that Lune was concealed behind clouds from which fell a gentle rain. Not far down the beach, a door without a doorway offered the shelter of a crude roof. I crept beneath it, buried my face in my arm, and slept once more, wishing never to wake.

I sank down among the stones, too weary to go another step, and slept before I closed my eyes.