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by Gordon R. Dickson
p.vi DORSAI! is an exposition of what Basil Liddell-Hart termed the Strategy of Indirection. (I do not imply a necessarily direct connection.) Instead of overwhelming one's opponent by brute force, the exponent of indirection maneuvers so that his opponent has to attack or (better yet) is checkmated without a battle.
p.7 Why make a cake of nothing but icing?
p.43 "Phase shift in one standard hour and twenty minutes. Passengers are advised to take their medication now and accomplish the shift while asleep, for convenience."
"Have you swallowed a pill yet?" asked arDell.
"No, not yet," said Donal.
"But you will?"
"Of course." Donal examined him with interest. "Why not?"
"Doesn't taking medication to avoid the discomfort of a phase shift strike you as a form of cowardice?" asked arDell. "Doesn't it?"
"That's foolish," said Donal. "Like saying it's cowardly to wear clothes to keep you warm and comfortable, or to eat, to keep from starving."
p.88 "very dark of skin and eye"
p.131 "Shai Dorsai!"
p.132 "What did that scarface mean by calling you shy?"
"Shy?" Donal turned about in surprise.
"Shaey, shy--something like that."
"Oh," Donal smiled at the expression on the other's face. "That wasn't an insult, Lee. It was a pat on the back. Shai was what he said. It means something like--true, pure, the actual."
p.177 He was enjoying the roseate glow of anticipated victory when it was all rudely shattered.
p.190 "You're right. I guess I do have a philosophy after all. You want to hear it?" "Please," said Sayona. "All right," said Donal. He looked over the little sunken garden. "It goes like this--each man is a tool in his own hands. Mankind is a tool in its own hands. Our greatest satisfaction doesn't come from the rewards of our work, but from the working itself; and our greatest responsibility is to sharpen, and improve the tool that is ourselves so as to make it capable of tackling bigger jobs."
p.214 Why should there be some sort of virtue always attributed to a frank admission of vice?
p.320 "What's between you two, boy?" he [Galt] asked.
Donal shook his head.
"Half of heaven and all of hell, I do believe," he said; and that was the most illuminating answer the marshal was to get out of him.
p.270 He blazes--blazes--like an atomic flare among a field full of little campfires. Their small lights fade when they get too close to them. And he hoods his light, when he's amongst them, to keep from blinding him.
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