“I would guess that he thought and thought for at least ten years before he came up with a stupendous idea, that glory of man's inventiveness, pants.”

“I envision a style: a style that would be beautiful, that someone will invent some day, ten years or ten centuries from now, one that would be rhythmic as verse, precise as the language of the sciences, undulant, deep-voiced as a cello, tipped with flame: a style that would pierce your idea like a dagger, and on which your thought would sail easily ahead over a smooth surface, like a skiff before a good tail wind.”

“He thought of half a dozen ideas before he went to sleep. Ender would be pleased-every one of them was stupid.”

“Ten, I thought, he's definitely a ten”

“I thought he was a woman, but I guess not.”

“Auguste preferred women. He told me I would grow into it. I told him that he could get heirs and I would read books. I was . . . nine? Ten? I thought I was already grown up. The hazards of overconfidence.”