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Excellent Advice for Living: Wisdom I Wish I'd Known Earlier

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Kevin Kelly
Kevin Kelly

Kevin Kelly, born on August 14, 1952, is a seasoned editor with a broad influence in the fields of technology, culture, and art. He has held editing positions at several renowned publishing houses and brought many excellent works to readers. more

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“Azriel set the potatoes in the centre of the table, Cassian diving right in. Or he tried to. One moment, his hand was spearing toward the serving spoon. The next, it was stopped. Azriel's scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. 'Wait,' Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice. Mor gaped wide enough that I was certain the half-chewed green beans in her mouth were going to tumble onto her plate. Amren just smirked over the rim of her wineglass. Cassian gawped at him. 'Wait for what? Gravy?' Azriel didn't let go. 'Wait until everyone is seated before eating.' 'Pig,' Mor supplied. Cassian gave a pointed look to the plate of green beans, chicken, bread, and ham already half eaten on Mor's plate. But he relaxed his hand, leaning back in his chair. 'I never knew you were a stickler for manners, Az.”

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“This isn’t the last night, and the next person to act like Ven is going to disappear tomorrow is getting an axe to the neck.” “Typical Vold,” Andel muttered. “Jumping straight to an axe to the neck when a simple ‘please’ might have sufficed.” Vale chuckled, drawing a few surprised looks. He shrugged. “I don’t think you’ve ever said that word. I don’t think any of us have.” “Not true,” Andel defended. “Half a decade ago I asked you all to please die for good and leave me to eternal peace.” “You’re right,” Fjor muttered dully. “Manners make all the difference.”

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“He thinned his eyes into razor slits and took a step toward Constance Brandley. “Let us be clear, madam. ‘Company’ implies one who is invited, one who is welcome.” Of course the chit didn’t back away. She angled her chin up in a like, defiant fury, and his annoyance only burned hotter. “You, in fact, are neither. Not for me. And…” He flicked an icy stare over her. “I suspect not for anybody.” She gasped. He continued over that indignant outrage. “Furthermore, if you are very interested in exchanging lessons on propriety and manners, let your first one be to advise you against visiting bachelor gentlemen.” There was a beat of silence. “All bachelors.” He puzzled his brow. “It’s just, you said you’d advise me against paying visits to bachelor gentlemen.” As she prattled, he searched for—and failed to find—any indication that she jested. “When in actuality, a woman concerned with propriety should steer clear of not just gentlemen bachelors, but all bachelors.” The termagant worked her gaze up and down his person. “Your inability to acknowledge those men outside the peerage is no doubt a product of your ducal status. Of course,” she tacked on.”

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