Honorverse favorite one-liners

<Since that time, she has learned to taste the mind glows of other humans more and more clearly,> Laughs Brightly went on. <She does not yet realize it, but she no longer truly needs her bond to me even for that.

I believe our bond makes it easier, yet she has reached out several times with her own mind, without even realizing that she has done it.> He cocked his head, and the other People tasted his pride and wonder at what his human had achieved.

<At the same time, she and I have come closer than any others of our kind—closer even than Swift Striker and Darkness Foe, I believe—to truly speaking mind-to-mind. It is difficult to describe, for human minds are so different from those of the People. As Golden Voice says, she does not hear as we hear one another. Rather it is almost as it is with a very young kitten, when thought and feeling have not truly separated one from another.

I am still exploring this new ability, still seeking ways to strengthen it, and since mating with Golden Voice, my bond with Dances on Clouds seems to have grown still stronger and deeper.>

roseandheather wrote:

cthia wrote:My nieces' Palomino likes fresh crabcakes. But they have to be fresh or he won't eat them. She treats him to an apple and a crabcake.

Is this palomino by any chance a Quarter Horse?

cthia wrote:

roseandheather wrote:
Is this palomino by any chance a Quarter Horse?

Yes. Yellow gold with a blonde tail. Actually the tail is more white, but I like to say blonde, it seems to please my niece.

Why, do you know more that like crabcakes?

Rob the Fiend wrote:I really hope that we will see some interaction between Dicey and som treecats in future books.

Rob the Fiend wrote:I(do they make celery doughnuts?)

They're buying it so far," she agreed. "But it's about time to show them what sharp teeth the Big Bad Wolf has."

She was locked into her mission, fused with Chief Barstow and Scotty Tremaine. Barstow was their eyes, peering ahead, finding their prey, marking it for death. And Scotty was their wings, bearing them onward like a falcon stooping upon its victims. And Honor—Honor was the very hand of death, and her hand squeezed again, her one good eye bleak as flint, as she sent a final missile scorching down into the sea of fire and smoke and secondary explosions which had once been Camp Charon's air defenses and the shuttles lined up on the field.

Honor stared at him for ten fulminating seconds, and then threw up her arm in exasperation.

"Yes, that's exactly right!" she snapped. "And if you weren't as stubborn, mule-headed, and hard to reason with as your son, you'd realize that!"

"My what?" He stared at her, shaken out of his automatic suspicion at last by the total non sequitur.

"Your son," Honor repeated in a flat voice. "Tomas Santiago Ramirez." Commodore Ramirez goggled at her, and she sighed. "I know him quite well, Commodore. For that matter, I've met your wife, Rosario, and Elena and Josepha, as well."

"Tomas—" he whispered, then blinked and shook himself. "You know little Tomacito?"

"He's hardly 'little' anymore," Honor said dryly. "In fact, he's pretty close to your size. Shorter, but you and he both favor stone walls, don't you? And he's also a colonel in the Royal Manticoran Marines."

"But—" Ramirez shook his head again, like a punch drunk fighter, and Honor chuckled sympathetically.

"Believe me, Sir. You can't be more surprised to meet me than I am to meet you. Your family has believed you were dead ever since the Peeps took Trevor's Star."

"They got out?" Ramirez stared at her, his voice begging her to tell him they had. "They reached Manticore? They—" His voice broke, and he scrubbed his face with his hands.

"They got out," Honor said gently, "and Tomas is one of my closest friends." She grinned wryly. "I suppose I should have realized you were the 'Commodore Ramirez's Captain Benson was talking about as soon as I heard the name. If Tomas were on this planet, I'm sure he'd have ended up in Camp Inferno, too. But who would've thought—?" She shook her head.

"But—" Ramirez stopped and sucked in an enormous breath, and Honor reached up and across to rest her hand on his shoulder. She squeezed for a moment, then nodded her head at the roots of the tree under—and in—which she had spent the day.

"Have a seat in my office here, and I'll tell you all about it," she invited.

Hutch wrote:OK, rested over the weekend (if refereeing 3 youth soccer games and mowing my yard is considered rest), so a couple from Echos of Honor:

They're buying it so far," she agreed. "But it's about time to show them what sharp teeth the Big Bad Wolf has."

--Honor just before she blows the hell out of the SS Base at Styx

She was locked into her mission, fused with Chief Barstow and Scotty Tremaine. Barstow was their eyes, peering ahead, finding their prey, marking it for death. And Scotty was their wings, bearing them onward like a falcon stooping upon its victims. And Honor—Honor was the very hand of death, and her hand squeezed again, her one good eye bleak as flint, as she sent a final missile scorching down into the sea of fire and smoke and secondary explosions which had once been Camp Charon's air defenses and the shuttles lined up on the field.

--You do not piss off Honor Harrington--ever!

Honor stared at him for ten fulminating seconds, and then threw up her arm in exasperation.

"Yes, that's exactly right!" she snapped. "And if you weren't as stubborn, mule-headed, and hard to reason with as your son, you'd realize that!"

"My what?" He stared at her, shaken out of his automatic suspicion at last by the total non sequitur.

"Your son," Honor repeated in a flat voice. "Tomas Santiago Ramirez." Commodore Ramirez goggled at her, and she sighed. "I know him quite well, Commodore. For that matter, I've met your wife, Rosario, and Elena and Josepha, as well."

"Tomas—" he whispered, then blinked and shook himself. "You know little Tomacito?"

"He's hardly 'little' anymore," Honor said dryly. "In fact, he's pretty close to your size. Shorter, but you and he both favor stone walls, don't you? And he's also a colonel in the Royal Manticoran Marines."

"But—" Ramirez shook his head again, like a punch drunk fighter, and Honor chuckled sympathetically.

"Believe me, Sir. You can't be more surprised to meet me than I am to meet you. Your family has believed you were dead ever since the Peeps took Trevor's Star."

"They got out?" Ramirez stared at her, his voice begging her to tell him they had. "They reached Manticore? They—" His voice broke, and he scrubbed his face with his hands.

"They got out," Honor said gently, "and Tomas is one of my closest friends." She grinned wryly. "I suppose I should have realized you were the 'Commodore Ramirez's Captain Benson was talking about as soon as I heard the name. If Tomas were on this planet, I'm sure he'd have ended up in Camp Inferno, too. But who would've thought—?" She shook her head.

"But—" Ramirez stopped and sucked in an enormous breath, and Honor reached up and across to rest her hand on his shoulder. She squeezed for a moment, then nodded her head at the roots of the tree under—and in—which she had spent the day.

"Have a seat in my office here, and I'll tell you all about it," she invited.

Just a scene I really enjoy imagining....and the look on Jesus Ramirezs' face...

"As much practice as you get, you could drink in the middle of a hurricane without spilling a drop."

Hutch wrote:OK, rested over the weekend (if refereeing 3 youth soccer games and mowing my yard is considered rest), so a couple from Echos of Honor:

They're buying it so far," she agreed. "But it's about time to show them what sharp teeth the Big Bad Wolf has."

--Honor just before she blows the hell out of the SS Base at Styx

She was locked into her mission, fused with Chief Barstow and Scotty Tremaine. Barstow was their eyes, peering ahead, finding their prey, marking it for death. And Scotty was their wings, bearing them onward like a falcon stooping upon its victims. And Honor—Honor was the very hand of death, and her hand squeezed again, her one good eye bleak as flint, as she sent a final missile scorching down into the sea of fire and smoke and secondary explosions which had once been Camp Charon's air defenses and the shuttles lined up on the field.

--You do not piss off Honor Harrington--ever!

Honor stared at him for ten fulminating seconds, and then threw up her arm in exasperation.

"Yes, that's exactly right!" she snapped. "And if you weren't as stubborn, mule-headed, and hard to reason with as your son, you'd realize that!"

"My what?" He stared at her, shaken out of his automatic suspicion at last by the total non sequitur.

"Your son," Honor repeated in a flat voice. "Tomas Santiago Ramirez." Commodore Ramirez goggled at her, and she sighed. "I know him quite well, Commodore. For that matter, I've met your wife, Rosario, and Elena and Josepha, as well."

"Tomas—" he whispered, then blinked and shook himself. "You know little Tomacito?"

"He's hardly 'little' anymore," Honor said dryly. "In fact, he's pretty close to your size. Shorter, but you and he both favor stone walls, don't you? And he's also a colonel in the Royal Manticoran Marines."

"But—" Ramirez shook his head again, like a punch drunk fighter, and Honor chuckled sympathetically.

"Believe me, Sir. You can't be more surprised to meet me than I am to meet you. Your family has believed you were dead ever since the Peeps took Trevor's Star."

"They got out?" Ramirez stared at her, his voice begging her to tell him they had. "They reached Manticore? They—" His voice broke, and he scrubbed his face with his hands.

"They got out," Honor said gently, "and Tomas is one of my closest friends." She grinned wryly. "I suppose I should have realized you were the 'Commodore Ramirez's Captain Benson was talking about as soon as I heard the name. If Tomas were on this planet, I'm sure he'd have ended up in Camp Inferno, too. But who would've thought—?" She shook her head.

"But—" Ramirez stopped and sucked in an enormous breath, and Honor reached up and across to rest her hand on his shoulder. She squeezed for a moment, then nodded her head at the roots of the tree under—and in—which she had spent the day.

"Have a seat in my office here, and I'll tell you all about it," she invited.

Just a scene I really enjoy imagining....and the look on Jesus Ramirezs' face...

saber964 wrote:How about when Jesus and Thomas meet on San Martin. A son meeting his father whom he thought dead 30 years earlier and a father seeing his son for the first time since the son was a child or his wife for that matter. Can you say rib crushing (literally) bear hug.

Hutch wrote:

saber964 wrote:How about when Jesus and Thomas meet on San Martin. A son meeting his father whom he thought dead 30 years earlier and a father seeing his son for the first time since the son was a child or his wife for that matter. Can you say rib crushing (literally) bear hug.

Given their size and strength, I would be more worried about tectonic disturbances....

But, yeah, that would have been a scene.

"I learned to swear before I learned to talk. That's why I don't do it."

The Solarian League is still pretty much ignoring events out in the SKM's neck of the universe. Both the SK and the RH are definitely considered "minor powers" (after all, the SLN thinks that everyone else is a "minor power") and while a certain degree of interest is beginning to percolate through the more evolution-oriented members of the SLN, those thinking that way are definitely still in the minority. The theory at the moment (such as it is and what there is of it) is that the ability of these minor nations to beat up on one another is all very well, but not what you'd expect to work against a real interstellar power. Or perhaps a better example would be the Europeans who, faced with what the Japanese did to the Russians in the Russo-Japanese War, more or less shrugged it off by saying "Well, Russia is really pretty much an Asiatic power itself, so what else could you expect? It wasn't like the plucky little Nips defeated white men, after all." As a result, very little effort is being made by anyone in the SL to systematically investigate what's happening out there on the Korean Pennins-- er, I mean in the Haven Sector.

When you reflect that at the start of WW II, the USN, which had identified Japan as its most probable naval enemy from the time of Teddy Roosevelt on, didn't know about the Long Lance torpedo, the Yamato-class battleships, the 18" gun, the top speeds of at least two classes of IJN battleships, the quality of Japanese night-vision optics, etc., and paid absolutely no attention to information it did have from other sources (like the dogfighting quality and radius of the Zero and the range of the Betty), you may begin to see what the SLN's attitude towards the RMN and RHN is. Until someone actually uses those weapons on them, they're going to regard them as no big thing.

For anyone who finds it difficult to suspend disbelief and accept that this could be their attitude, I can only say that the ability of an entrenched, bureaucratic military to ignore anything which challenges its fundamental working assumptions simply cannot be exaggerated.