Scott

“What matters is that you did not know the story. And the reason you did not...is that our ancestor William - through his deeds of arms, his force of personality and his vast conquests - had achieved so much by the time his belly exploded that even this undignified end was soon forgotten by all but the most diligent annalists.

...

You and I, continued the king, have achieved nothing yet. Nothing...You may die here in Normandy, like our ancestor. But unlike our ancestor, should your dead belly burst and release poisonous miasmas that sicken all who smell them, then that, my son, will be the story of you.”
― Dan Jones, Essex Dogs

“Three floors.'

'What?' Glave snapped.

'No legs. It had no legs, but it crawled up three floors trying to kill us.'

Glave thought about that, then swept the beam of his meltagun across the rockcrete stairs, eating away at the grey stone and metal supports beneath.

'Well the next one will have to jump for us.”
― Robert Rath, The Fall of Cadia

“Between us, we have the fire and the water. I'm quite sure that together, we can take on the wind.”
― R.F. Kuang, The Dragon Republic

“Reservations should not have been a permeant home. Like trailers, like campgrounds, like prisons or hospitals, they felt temporary, like some place you go between places. I realized I wasn't sure what permanence looked like, because we weren't meant to survive. My family, my tribe, my ancestors, we were something temporary to the settlers. Something that would eventually go away. Whether by disease or alcohol or poverty, our genocide was inevitable to them. I looked at the smoke pluming from the metal chimneys of the small reservation houses along the highway. But here we were, existing in our impermanent homes.”
― Sasha taqwšəblu LaPointe, Red Paint: The Ancestral Autobiography of a Coast Salish Punk