Emily

“Queer' not as being about who you're having sex with (that can be a dimension of it); but 'queer' as being about the self that is at odds with everything around it and that has to invent and create and find a place to speak and to thrive and to live.”
― bell hooks

“Poets speak of hope in ladies smiles, but give me a smirk any day, I say.”
― Lois McMaster Bujold, Paladin of Souls

“It's political, sir. Apparently he wants a return to the values and traditions that made the city great, sir."

"Does he _know_ what those values and traditions _were_?" said Vimes, aghast.”
― Terry Pratchett

“You would -- you would take him into Your heaven, my lord?" asked Ingrey in astonishment and outrage. "He slew, not in defense of his own life, but in malice and madness. He tried to steal powers not rightly given to him. If I guess right, he plotted the death of his own brother. He would have raped Ijada, if he could, and killed again for his sport!"

The Son held up his hands. Luminescent, they seemed, as if dappled by autumn sun reflecting off a stream into shade. "My grace flows from me as a river, wolf-lord. Would you have me dole it out in the exact measure that men earn, as from an apothecary's dropper? Would you stand in pure water to your waist, and administer it by the scant spoon to men dying of thirst on a parched shore?"

Ingrey stood silent, abashed, but Ijada lifted her face, and said steadily, "No, my lord, for my part. Give him to the river. Tumble him down in the thunder of Your cataract. His loss is no gain of mine, nor his dark deserving any joy to me."

The god smiled brilliantly at her. Tears slid down her face like silver threads: like benedictions.

"It is unjust," whispered Ingrey. "Unfair to all who -- who would try to do rightly...."

"Ah, but I am not the god for justice," murmured the Son. "Would you both stand before my Father instead?”
― Lois McMaster Bujold, The Hallowed Hunt