Doyle: "What is it now, then?"
Cordelia: "Isn't java supposed to be a coffee?"
Doyle: "Ready to abandon the the Web project?"
Cordelia: "No way. We have a chance here to make contact with the millions of people out there who are glued to their computers."
Doyle: "All those millions, shunning human contact. I'll never understand it. Call me old-fashioned, if you like, but I want to interface with a face, not a hunk of plastic and glass."
Cordelia: "Climb out of the Dark Ages, Munchkin man."
Doyle: "It's leprechaun, and either way, I don't appreciate the insult.
Mots clés humour doyle angel joss-whedon avatar cordelia
Welcome to Barrayar, son. Here you go: have a world of wealth and poverty, wrenching change and rooted history. Have a birth; have two. Have a name. Miles means "soldier," but don't let the power of suggestion overwhelm you. Have a twisted form in a society that loathes and fears the mutations that have been its deepest agony. Have a title, wealth, power, and all the hatred and envy they will draw. Have your body ripped apart and re-arranged. Inherit an array of friends and enemies you never made. Have a grandfather from hell. Endure pain, find joy, and make your own meaning, because the universe certainly isn't going to supply it. Always be a moving target. Live. Live. Live.
Lois McMaster BujoldMots clés vorkosigan cordelia barrayar
Sorry, Bill. I just have this awful vision of being p-peeled like an onion, looking for the seeds."
He grinned. "Onions don't have seeds, Cordelia."
"I stand corrected," she said dryly.
Mots clés vorkosigan cordelia shards-of-honour
Are you sure this isn't instant boots?" asked Cordelia sadly, for in color, taste, and smell they closely resembled pulverized shoe leather pressed into wafers.
Lois McMaster BujoldMots clés vorkosigan cordelia shards-of-honour
I yet beseech your majesty,--
If for I want that glib and oily art,
To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,
I'll do't before I speak,--that you make known
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,
That hath deprived me of your grace and favour;
But even for want of that for which I am richer,
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
As I am glad I have not, though not to have it
Hath lost me in your liking.
He who does not know how to encircle a girl so that she loses sight of everything he does not want her to see, he who does not know how to poetize himself into a girl so that it is from her that everything proceeds as he wants it-he is and remains a bungler
Søren KierkegaardMots clés love poetry temptation seduction cordelia johannes seducer-s-diary
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