“Honor has killed one bloody hell a lot of men,” I said to the dark groove of his bruised back. “Honor without sense is… foolishness. A gallant foolishness, but foolishness nonetheless.”
“Aye, it is. And it will change–you’ve told me. But if I shall be among those who sacrifice honor for expedience… shall I feel nay shame in the doing of it?” He rolled suddenly to face me, eyes troubled in the starlight.
Diana Gabaldon, Dragonfly in Amber, p. 631
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