A Desolation Called Peace (Teixcalaan, #2)

by Arkady Martine

don’t trust anyone who makes you feel good without knowing why they want you to feel that way.

Some emperors are emperors of very narrow spaces, just enough to fill entirely with themselves,

everyone had politics, even if only some people had sex.

Loyalty wasn’t transitive. It didn’t move up and down the chain of command smoothly. It could get cut off, or rerouted.

She had begun petting the Kauraanian kitten, and it purred like it wanted to be a starship engine when it grew up.

Less sleep would have meant less time to dream.

Wait for the real problem, Your Excellency. Don’t borrow trouble that doesn’t come to you on its own.”

Everyone dies, except memory

we are sometimes known, even so. If we are lucky.