Deathworld, p.24
Deathworld,
p.24
The chords crashed around them as Nick looked at Joey Bane, the only dark thing in all that landscape, with astonishment.
“Okay, so life stinks,” Joey said, “. . but then you stop complaining, and get on with finding out how to make it work.”
Through waves of triumphant music of lute and bass and jazz sax the three of them walked uphill, into the light, toward the crowd of Banies dancing under the second sun.
Tom Clancy, Deathworld
