Honorverse favorite one-liners

And the baseborn bitch had turned him down. She'd snubbed him—snubbed him!—in front of his friends. She'd tried to make it seem she didn't know what she was doing, but she had, and when he'd started to put her in her place with a few well-chosen words, that bastard MacDougal had appeared out of nowhere and put him on report for "harassing" her!

No one had turned him down, not since his father's yacht pilot when he was sixteen T-years old, and he'd fixed her ass the next time he caught her alone. Yes, and his father had seen to it she kept her mouth shut about it, too. It should have been the same with Harrington, but it hadn't. Oh, no, not with Harrington.

A low, harsh, hating sound quivered deep in his throat as he remembered his humiliation. He'd planned it so carefully. He'd spent days timing her schedule, until he learned about those private late-night exercise sessions of hers. She liked to turn the grav plates up, and she could have the gym to herself that late, and he'd smiled as he realized he could catch her alone in the showers. He'd even taken the precaution of slipping cotanine into the celery one of her friends kept feeding to her damned treecat. He hadn't got enough into it to kill the little monster, damn it, but it had made him so sleepy she'd left him in her dorm room.

It had been perfect. He'd caught her actually in the shower, naked, and seen the shock and shame in her eyes. He'd savored her panic as he stalked her through the spray, watching her back away while her hands tried ridiculously to cover herself, already tasting his revenge . . . but then something changed. The panic in her eyes had turned into something else when he reached for her to throw her up against the shower wall, and her slippery-wet skin had twisted out of his grasp.

He'd been surprised by her strength as she broke his grip. That was his first thought. And then he'd whooped in anguish as the heel of her right hand slammed into his belly. He'd doubled up, retching with hurt, and her knee had driven up into his crotch like a battering ram.

He'd screamed. Sweat beaded his forehead as he remembered the shame of that moment, the searing agony in his groin and, behind it, the sick, terrible humiliation of defeat. But just stopping him hadn't been enough for the bitch. Her savage, unfair blow had surprised and paralyzed him, and she'd followed through with brutal efficiency.

An elbow had smashed his lips to paste. The edge of a chopping hand had broken his nose. Another crushing blow snapped his collarbone, and her knee ripped up again—this time into his face—as he went down. She'd snapped off two incisors at the gum-line, broken six of his ribs, and left him sobbing in bloody-mouthed agony and terror under the pounding shower as she snatched up her clothing and fled.

Hutch wrote:Well, with over 1,000 posts (and at least 75% of them having some type of quote(s) in them), t is becoming very difficult to find something that hasn't been posted before.

But I think I found one, as Pavel Young takes us through his version of the famous shower scene--and reaffirms what a loathsome being he is....

And the baseborn bitch had turned him down. She'd snubbed him—snubbed him!—in front of his friends. She'd tried to make it seem she didn't know what she was doing, but she had, and when he'd started to put her in her place with a few well-chosen words, that bastard MacDougal had appeared out of nowhere and put him on report for "harassing" her!

No one had turned him down, not since his father's yacht pilot when he was sixteen T-years old, and he'd fixed her ass the next time he caught her alone. Yes, and his father had seen to it she kept her mouth shut about it, too. It should have been the same with Harrington, but it hadn't. Oh, no, not with Harrington.

A low, harsh, hating sound quivered deep in his throat as he remembered his humiliation. He'd planned it so carefully. He'd spent days timing her schedule, until he learned about those private late-night exercise sessions of hers. She liked to turn the grav plates up, and she could have the gym to herself that late, and he'd smiled as he realized he could catch her alone in the showers. He'd even taken the precaution of slipping cotanine into the celery one of her friends kept feeding to her damned treecat. He hadn't got enough into it to kill the little monster, damn it, but it had made him so sleepy she'd left him in her dorm room.

It had been perfect. He'd caught her actually in the shower, naked, and seen the shock and shame in her eyes. He'd savored her panic as he stalked her through the spray, watching her back away while her hands tried ridiculously to cover herself, already tasting his revenge . . . but then something changed. The panic in her eyes had turned into something else when he reached for her to throw her up against the shower wall, and her slippery-wet skin had twisted out of his grasp.

He'd been surprised by her strength as she broke his grip. That was his first thought. And then he'd whooped in anguish as the heel of her right hand slammed into his belly. He'd doubled up, retching with hurt, and her knee had driven up into his crotch like a battering ram.

He'd screamed. Sweat beaded his forehead as he remembered the shame of that moment, the searing agony in his groin and, behind it, the sick, terrible humiliation of defeat. But just stopping him hadn't been enough for the bitch. Her savage, unfair blow had surprised and paralyzed him, and she'd followed through with brutal efficiency.

An elbow had smashed his lips to paste. The edge of a chopping hand had broken his nose. Another crushing blow snapped his collarbone, and her knee ripped up again—this time into his face—as he went down. She'd snapped off two incisors at the gum-line, broken six of his ribs, and left him sobbing in bloody-mouthed agony and terror under the pounding shower as she snatched up her clothing and fled.

"I think you’re both underestimating the selling power of what each of you have gotten out of the other. Your offer to help us deal with Filareta when you didn’t have to do anything of the sort—when you had every reason not to, in fact—is going to buy you a lot of goodwill in the Star Empire. And Elizabeth’s renunciation of any reparations will smooth a lot of ruffled feathers in Nouveau Paris… not to mention cutting the legs right out from under that snot Younger.”

She smiled almost dreamily at the thought.

John Prigent wrote:Some of these one-liners are getting closer to one-pagers. Can we get back to the original idea?

John Prigent wrote:Some of these one-liners are getting closer to one-pagers. Can we get back to the original idea?

Do not fear change. Change fear.

Victor had learned to control himself by the time he was six years old. That was how he had survived the projects, and clawed his way out.

cthia wrote:

John Prigent wrote:Some of these one-liners are getting closer to one-pagers. Can we get back to the original idea?

John,
The original idea was one-liners. Immediately posters began to complain that it was difficult to adhere to that limitation as many one-liners, good one-liners, need contextual support. I knew that even before I began the thread and I thought that posters, being mature adults as we are, would instinctively post as required. That is why my original post read something like 'try to keep it within one-line.'

I have since amended the original post to allow more leeway. Perhaps you were not aware. Please forgive us. Do. But it seems the one-liners thread has taken on a life of its own. Personally, I like it. I like it very much because it affords oftentimes poignant discussions of passages that otherwise wouldn't be possible without the supporting text. Another reason I really really like the newly adopted format is it affords book-discussion-like moments. I have always loved book discussions, and I have attended many such formal events. They are incredibly rewarding. You get to witness several, often completely different, views regarding the very same passage. Oftentimes adding a bit of spice to your own understanding.

Hutch's last post was a quite profound and memorable moment. I found myself cheering all over again. Every single line was needed, and it had me as excited as my first virgin read. I am in waiting for David's next title, as I am sure we all are, but if we can find solace and joy in a simple thread on a forum until such book hits hot off the press, then would you really deny us that? Please don't. Humbly I ask.

Some of the posts as I have stated have been quite poignant but I have also come to enjoy the individual adlibs that come after some of the posts as well. The adlibs give us a brief glimpse into the life of another reader inasmuch as it illuminates how someone else assimilated the same line, passage, or book that I read.

To anyone who have never attended a formal book discussion, I encourage you to do so. Especially if it is one of your favorite reads. I promise, you will not be disappointed. Oddly enough, men are in a minority at such events.

Again, forgive us that the one-liner thread has morphed, but after over a 1000 posts ammo is running thin. To live, we load the cannon with forks and knives.

Do not fear change. Change fear.

"His mother's stinking rich, you know, and that shuttle was built by the Hauptman Cartel's Palladium Yard," Anton said to the blonde teenager. She was quite attractive in a stocky and athletic way. "They build a lot of the Navy's assault shuttles and ground attack craft. Really knows how to armor a ship, does the Palladium Yard, and I doubt they spared any expense on her shuttle. As a matter of fact, I know they didn't, since I personally wrote up the design stats for it. The point being, I don't think those rocks are even going to dent the hull."

"Sure, I know that." Susanna dug into the bag. "It's the principle of the thing."

As Anton predicted, the hull wasn't so much as dented. Still, she managed to hit it twice. The girl had one hell of an arm.

"On the contrary, Your Majesty. The thought of your whacking certain august members of the House of Lords gives me a rather warm feeling, actually."