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had missions she was charged to perform—but she had taken them on as personal challenges, not out of some loyalty to a higher order. The galaxy didn’t have the right to give her odd jobs. Truly free beings had lives. Slaves had duties.
“The funeral. The one with presidents and ministers and secretaries of this or that, representing these or those, all decked out and solemn in black and respect. It was the biggest funeral ever, somebody had said. Everyone who was anyone, everywhere that was anywhere, had somebody, a Somebody, in attendance. Nobody wanted to miss the funeral.”
― Armor
― Armor
“ALL NIGHT LONG, your thoughts are on the air. Am I sleeping? Have I slept at all? This is the insomnia. Try to relax a little more with every breath out, but your heart’s still racing and your thoughts tornado in your head. Nothing works. Not guided meditation.”
― Fight Club
― Fight Club
“He’s the best of us,’” said Felix, reciting. “‘The best of our best, the best that each of us will ever build or ever love. So pray for this Guardian of our growth and choose him well, for if he be not truly blessed, then our designs are surely frivolous and our future but a tragic waste of hope. Bless our best and adore for he doth bear our measure to the Cosmos.”
― Armor
― Armor
“Upper lamp on lowest gain glowing down to white sheets and yellow hair and golden skin—so much gold for so little skin—and all of it, the gently rising flat tummy, the wide eyes closed or shielded or hidden, the positively dreamlike sweep of lines from throat to forehead and back again to the partial view of more yellow hair, but tufted, promising more hair and more gold . . . all of it glowing back up into the lamp, shaming it. Shaming me.”
― Armor
― Armor
“The word had a depth to it. Late. It was late. All the chances to make things right had somehow passed him. The system was at war, and no one was even sure why. Miller himself was turning fifty years old the next June. It was late. Late to start again. Late to realize how many years he’d spent running down the wrong road. Hasini steered him toward an electric cart the bar kept for occasions like this one. The smell of hot grease came out of the kitchen. “Hold”
― Leviathan Wakes
― Leviathan Wakes
Eric’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Eric’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
603 books
|
129 friends
1,614 books
|
96 friends
323 books
|
81 friends
1,620 books
|
97 friends
1,368 books
|
39 friends
197 books
|
248 friends
663 books
|
125 friends
4,956 books
|
1,092 friends
More friends…
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