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When the souls rise up in glory, yours shall not be shunned nor sunderered, but shall be the prize of the gods' gardens. Even your darkness shall be treasured then, and all your pain made holy.

Lois McMaster Bujold

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Lois McMaster Bujold
Age: 75
Born: 1949
Born: November 2
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Columbus
Ohio
Glory
Shunned
Darkness
Treasured
Holy
Gardens
Shall
Prize
Pain
Gods
Soul
Souls
Even
Rise
Made
Garden

More quotes by Lois McMaster Bujold

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When you give each other everything, it becomes an even trade. Each wins all.
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What you are is a question only you can answer.
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Our children change us... whether they live or not.
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Suicidal glory is the luxury of the irresponsible.
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It's an ancient and honorable term for the final step in any engineering project. Turn it on, see if it smokes.
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Real destiny takes everything-the last drop of blood, and strip out your veins to be sure-and gives it back doubled. Quadrupled. A thousand-fold! But you can't give halves. You have to give it all. I know. I swear. I've come back from the dead to speak the truth to you. Real destiny gives you a mountain of life, and puts you on top of it.
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For a while, I thought I was going mad. At last, I became reconciled to my despair. The medications helped, too, I thought, sir.
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I do think, half of what we call madness is just some poor slob dealing with pain by a strategy that annoys the people around him.
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If you ever have to make a choice between learning and inspiration, choose learning. It works most of the time.
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I am not schizoid. A little manic-depressive, maybe. 'Know thyself.' We try, sir.
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I am an atheist, myself. A simple faith, but a great comfort to me, in these last days.
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You should have fallen in love with a happy man, if you wanted happiness. But no, you had to fall for the breathtaking beauty of pain.
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If the truth doesn't save us, what does that say about us?
Lois McMaster Bujold
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His outflung hands traced over the threads of his rug, passed loop by loop through some patient woman's hands. Or maybe she hadn't been patient. Maybe she'd been tired, or irritated, or distracted, or hungry, or angry. Maybe she had been dying. But her hands had kept moving, all the same.
Lois McMaster Bujold
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A good friend of my son's is a son to me.
Lois McMaster Bujold
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Since no one is perfect, it follows that all great deeds have been accomplished out of imperfection. Yet they were accomplished, somehow, all the same.
Lois McMaster Bujold
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This wasn't prayer anyway, it was just argument with the gods. Prayer, he suspected as he hoisted himself up and turned for the door, was putting one foot in front of the other. Moving all the same.
Lois McMaster Bujold
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Honor is what you know about yourself.
Lois McMaster Bujold
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Read, or you will be missing something extraordinary.
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Wikipedia is so dangerous. You go online to look up the definition of eclampsia, and three hours later you find yourself reading this earnest explanation of tentacle porn in [Japanese] anime.
Lois McMaster Bujold