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“Husbands have been putting their names on their wives’ work in this city for three hundred years. And if it’s not a woman’s husband, it’s her boss, because women are limited to being apprentices and assistants in almost every profession worth doing. No woman ever gets credit for the work she puts in—especially in academia. She never gets the glory. Well, I’m not married, I’m no one’s apprentice, and I’ll be damned if I let a man find some other way to take my glory from me.”
― M.L. Wang, Blood Over Bright Haven

“...and between us and the old English there lies a gulf of mystery which the prose of the historian will never adequately bridge. They cannot come to us, and our imaginations can but feebly penetrate to them. Only among the aisles of the cathedral, only as we gaze upon their silent figures sleeping on their tombs, some faint conceptions float before us of what these men were when they were alive.”
― T. H. White, The Sword in the Stone

“I carry exile in my heart. It animates my poetry and my politics; I will never be free of it, having lived outside of Teixcalaan for so long. I will always be measuring the distance between myself and a person who remained in the heart of the world; between the person I would have been had I stayed and the person I have become under the pressure of the frontier. When the Seventeenth Legion came through the jumpgate in bight star-snatching ships and filled up the Ebrekti sky in the shapes of my home, I was at first afraid. A profound discontinuity. To know fear in the shape of one's own face.”
― Arkady Martine, A Memory Called Empire

“In refusing to be a stepping stone, she had made herself a boot.”
― M.L. Wang, Blood Over Bright Haven