“Sometimes I hated it when I was right, but I always hated it when someone else was. Especially when their being right made me wrong. I’m irrational that way. It’s something I’m working on.”
“Tam considers me a challenge. I consider Tam a work in progress. I also think there's a gentleman lurking under that calculating exterior. Tam thinks 'gentleman' is a dirty word. I talk dirty to Tam every chance I get.”
“The Guardian's eyes widened with amazement, and he tightened his grip on me. He had my arms, so the action I was forced to take was entirely his fault. It was as direct as my previous action, but not nearly as polite.
In the next instant, the Guardian was on his knees trying to remember how to breath.”
“Mychael Eiliesor. Guardian paladin, sacred protector, master spellsinger, fashion consultant.”
“You know it’s going to be a bad day when you can’t get privacy inside your own head.”
“I wouldn't be comfortable, but at least I'd have marginal protection against pointy steel objects that went stab in the night.”
“I decide that we could always indulge ourselves later. First, I had a soul-eating stone of power to poke with a stick.”
“When it came to maintaining a reputation, facts were fleeting but you could ride a rumor for years.”
“Sir, come quick. They've found a body in the canal."
I blew out my breath. Saved by the corpse.
...The corpse in question was Nigel Nicabar.
The watchers had collected the bodies found in Nigel's house, garden, and canal, and put them in the greenhouse located at the back of the garden. The necromancer's talents weren't with living things, so the greenhouse's tables were pretty much empty - at least of plants. Dead goblins lay under sheets and tarps. I couldn't help feeling that Nigel would have approved. What he wouldn't have approved of was being included among them. Nigel wouldn't have been caught dead surrounded by goblins, yet that's exactly how and where he was. I don't think he would have appreciated the irony.”
“You'll never find a worse critic than the one inside your own skin, or a more difficult one to silence," I told Pieras, by means of explanation. "The best you can hope for is to teach it some manners.”
“Bodyguard work came easily to hobgoblins. When you’re huge, furry, fanged, and yellow-eyed, you don’t need much else as a deterrent.”
“[...]Let me ask around. In the meantime, you need to keep that trinket out of sight, and you need to be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
Garadin gave me the look. You know the one.
“Whenever I can,” I added.”
“You’ll never find a worse critic than the one inside your own skin, or a more difficult one to silence,” I told Piaras, by means of explanation. “The best you can hope for is to teach it some manners.”
“guess all that sinuous grace and exotic beauty can”
“It seemed like a mistake. And mistakes ought to be rectified, only this one couldn't be. Between the way things used to be and the way they were now was a void that couldn't be crossed. I had to find an explanation other than the real one, which was that we were no more immune to misfortune than anybody else, and the idea that kept recurring to me...was that I had inadvertently walked through a door that I shouldn't have gone through and couldn't get back to the place I hadn't meant to leave. Actually, it was other way round: I hadn't gone anywhere and nothing was changed, so far as the roof over our heads was concerned, it was just that she was in the cemetery.”
“Dear Anyone: This is a letter from one anyone to another anyone, no names required, because nobody really knows anyway. Names don't make a hell of a lot of difference. The world is made up entirely of strangers. Millions and millions of them. Everyone is a stranger to everyone else. Sometimes we think we know other people, especially those we supposedly are close to, but if we really knew them, why are we so often surprised by the shit they do? Like, parents are always surprised by what their kids will do. They raise them from the time they are babies, spend each and every day with them, think they're these goddamn fucking angels, and then one day the cops come to the door and say hey, guess what parents? Your kid just bashed some other kid's head in with a baseball bat. Or you're the kid, and you think things are pretty fucking OK, and then one day this guy who's supposed to be your dad says so long, have a nice life. And you think, what the fuck is this? So years later, your mom ends up living with another guy, and he seems OK, but you think, when's it coming? That's what life is. Life is always asking yourself, when's it coming? Because if it hasn't come for a long time, you know you're fucking due. All the best, Anyone.”
“Sentiment and brutality, never one without the other, like fossils and oil.”
“...she refused to leave anything to someone else that she could do better herself.”
“I think about you but I don't say it anymore.”
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