Too Like the Lightning (Terra Ignota, #1)

by Ada Palmer

I cannot offer wine without the poison of the alcohol within.

Man is more ambitious than patient. When we realize we cannot split a true atom, cannot conquer the whole Earth, we redefine the terms to fake our victory, check off our boxes and pretend the deed is done.

You can come inside and help me clean up and talk, or you can sit there and be wrong. It’s up to you.”

Heloïse attempted a seated curtsey, which made the shadows of her tight breasts bounce beneath her habit. It tried its best, the nun’s habit, to leave her shapeless, stripping hips and curves from the figure with its clumsy folds, but all it truly did was dare one to search for them, to wonder how pert the buttocks must be to make the fabric hang so, or to mark the shapes of thighs and calves through the slack cloth.

Celibacy is the most extreme of sexual perversions, after all.”

Animals may hunt by speed, by trap, by disguise, by ambush, but name for me another besides mankind that hunts by trust.