The Curse of Chalion (World of the Five Gods, #1)

by Lois McMaster Bujold

careless grace.

unused lumber room in the back of his soul

We have what we can hold, dear boy, and never let them see you flinch or falter.”

of like degree,

“I believe Chalion was saved from a deal of bad poetry, when I went off to war.”

a god who was supposed to command a legion of demons ought to have an easier time shaking out donations for his good works.

How could he resist all this urgent delight?

dimpled at him

extravagant grief.

“You cannot outguess the gods. Hold to virtue—if you can identify it—and trust that the duty set before you is the duty desired of you. And that the talents given to you are the talents you should place in the gods’ service. Believe that the gods ask for nothing back that they have not first lent to you. Not even your life.”

grown men’s vices were not the same as grown men’s honors?

“I don’t duel, boy. I kill as a soldier kills, which is as a butcher kills, as quickly, efficiently, and with as least risk to myself as I can arrange. If I decide you die, you will die when I choose, where I choose, by what means I choose, and you will never see the blow coming.”

if this was sainthood, the gods must exceed themselves for damnation.

Luck, Cazaril couldn’t help reflecting, had not been his most salient experience since he’d stumbled into the gods’ maze.

should I ever again be in danger of getting a night’s sleep.

I do not hate any man in this world enough to inflict the results of my prayers upon him.”

“I don’t know how to open my mouth and push out the universe in words. It won’t fit.

“Perhaps I am just not packed into this battered old case as neatly as I used to be.”