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“Everyone messes up. How you deal with it is what determines who you are.”
“Wait.… Why do you care?” For the first time, Nielsen’s expression softened, just slightly. “Because that’s what we do. We fall down, and then we help each other back up again.”
No one—not even the Soft Blade—ought to be able to dictate what she could do with her body. If she wanted to get a tattoo or become fat or have a kid or do anything else, then she damn well ought to have that freedom. Without the opportunity, she was nothing more than a slave.
“All good soldiers are philosophers, same as a priest or a professor. You have to be when you deal with matters of life and death.”
“You can’t fix the instinct for self-preservation.” “Oh yes we can!” Sparrow snapped. “That’s what separates us from the animals. We can choose to go out and march for thirty klicks with a heavy ruck on our back. We can choose to put up with all sorts of unpleasant shit because we know our tomorrow selves will thank us for it. Doesn’t matter what kind of mental gymnastics you have to pull in that mush you call a brain, but there is sure as shit a way to keep from overreacting when you get surprised.
She’d seen it plenty of times before on the mining outposts. Guys who didn’t punch back always ended up getting picked on more. It was a law of nature.
Too often we don’t appreciate the value of something until it has slipped our grasp.”
She was trying to communicate with an alien species. Just talking to a human from another city, much less another planet, could be nigh on impossible. Why should it be any easier with an alien?
The happiness of two beings might be a small thing when compared with the immensity of the universe, but what, ultimately, was more important? Suffering was inescapable, but to care for another and to be cared for in turn—that was the closest any person might come to heaven.
You are a prickly and problematic person, but life is more interesting with you around.…
