The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers, #1)

by Becky Chambers

“What kind of body would you want to have?” Jenks countered. “That’s way more important.”

Acting all sanctimonious while spouting bad info was a terrible way to win a debate, but a great way to piss people off.

the idea that a child, especially an infant, was of more value than an adult who had already gained all the skills needed to benefit the community.

The idea that a loss of potential was somehow worse than a loss of achievement and knowledge

Tweaking your body, it’s all about trying to make your physical self fit with who you are inside.

No sapient could sustain happiness all of the time, just as no one could live permanently within anger, or boredom, or grief.

He could study his grief from a distance, like a scientist observing animals. He embraced it, accepted it, acknowledged that it would never go away. It was as much as part of him as any pleasant feeling. Perhaps even more so.

Such a quintessentially Human thing, to express sorrow through apology.

The memories reached out to Dr. Chef, trying to pull him away from his safe observation point. They tugged, begging for him to give in. But he would not. He was not a prisoner of those memories. He was their warden.

I did not start that war. It should never have been mine to fight.”

“We cannot blame ourselves for the wars our parents start. Sometimes the very best thing we can do is walk away.”

People can do terrible things when they feel safe and powerful.

Feelings are relative. And at the root, they’re all the same, even if they grow from different experiences and exist on different scales.”

The truth is, Rosemary, that you are capable of anything. Good or bad. You always have been, and you always will be. Given the right push, you, too, could do horrible things. That darkness exists within all of us.

The universe is what we make of it. It’s up to you to decide what part you will play.

The people we remember are the ones who decided how our maps should be drawn. Nobody remembers who built the roads.”

“Stop trying not to be scared. I’m scared, Sissix is scared, Ashby is scared. And that’s good. Scared means we want to live.

Brothers never go away. That’s for life. And I know married folks are supposed to be for life, too, but they’re not always. Brothers you can’t get rid of. They get who you are, and what you like, and they don’t care who you sleep with or what mistakes you make, because brothers aren’t mixed up in that part of your life. They see you at your worst, and they don’t care. And even when you fight, it doesn’t matter so much, because they still have to say hi to you on your birthday, and by then, everybody’s forgotten about it, and you have cake together.”