Page 1139 - Enders_Game_Full_Book

"That's it," said Miro. "That's what we do. We tune her out."
"It's more complicated than I thought," said Jane. "I don't know if I can do it." "Yeah, well, you don't have much choice right now, do you," he said.
"Miro, I'm so sorry. I always felt such pity for you humans because you could only think of one thing at a time and your memories were so imperfect and ... now I realize that just getting through the day without killing somebody can be an achievement."
"It gets to be a habit. Most of us manage to keep our body count quite low. It's the neighborly way to live."
It took a moment-- a sob, and then a hiccough-- but then she did laugh. A sweet, soft chuckle that was such a welcome sound to Miro. Welcome because it was a voice he knew and loved, a laugh that he liked to hear. And it was his dear friend who was doing the laughing. His dear friend Jane. The laugh, the voice of his beloved Val. One person now. After all this time, he could reach out his hand and touch Jane, who had always been impossibly far away. Like having a friendship over the telephone and finally meeting face-to-face.
He touched her again, and she took his hand and held it.
"I'm sorry I let my own weakness get in the way of what we're doing," said Jane. "You're only human," said Miro.
She looked at him, searched his face for irony, for bitterness.
"I mean it," said Miro. "The price of having these emotions, these passions, is that you have to control them, you have to bear them when they're too strong to bear. You're only human now. You'll never make these feelings go away. You just have to learn not to act on them."
"Quara never learned."
"Quara learned, all right," said Miro. "It's just my opinion, but Quara loved Marcao, adored him, and when he died and the rest of us felt so liberated, she was lost. What she does now, this constant provocation-- she's asking somebody to abuse her. To hit her. The way Marcao always hit Mother whenever he was provoked. I think in some perverse way Quara was always jealous of Mother when she got to go off alone with Papa, and even though she finally figured out that he was beating her up, when Quara wanted her papa back the only way she knew of to demand his attention was-- this mouth of hers." Miro laughed bitterly. "It reminds me of Mother, to tell the truth. You've never heard her, but in the old days, when she was trapped in marriage with Marcao and having Libo's babies-- oh, she had a mouth on her. I'd sit there and listen to her provoking Marcao, goading him, stabbing at him, until he'd hit her-- and I'd think, Don't you dare lay a hand on my mother, and at the same time I'd absolutely understand his impotent rage, because he could never, never, never say