Quotes from Steven Brust

We passed a street minstrel who was singing in one of the more obscure Eastern languages, and I dropped a few orbs into his instrument case. "Boss, was he singing what I thought he was singing?" "A young man tells his beloved of his love for her." " 'My little hairy testicle—' " "It's a cultural thing, Loiosh. You wouldn't understand.

As we locked the front door behind us, she said, "How do you keep getting in without my knowing it? Did Jill give you a key without mentioning it to me?" "Trade secret," I said. "What trade is that? Cat burglar?" "Yes, although I prefer the technical term." "What's that?" "Music promoter.

Yes?" she said. "And who might you be?" I bowed, because it seemed the appropriate response. "I might be Jill's friend." I said. "Or I might be an Israeli terrorist looking for PLO supporters. Or possibly a burglar trying to steal your jewels to support my laudanum habit. Or even a neighbor complaining about the volume. That is "Heart of Uncle," isn't it? It really ought to be louder.

We create our own omens, I think, and then mystify ourselves trying to understand their significance.

If you're trying to scare me," I said, "it's working." "I can do a great deal more than scare you." Where do they get this stuff? "Um, if I thought all you could do was scare me, you couldn't scare me, if you see what I mean." "We'll see how funny you are in a little while." I was mildly curious about that myself.

It isn't always easy to act on what's in your head instead of what's in your heart. And it isn't always right to. The whole trick to knowing what to do is deciding when to make yourself listen to your head, and when it's okay to just follow your feelings.

Well," she said, "if I were the enemy commander, and our assault had failed three times, and I wanted to make a fourth, I don't think I'd attack with fewer men. But that's just me." "Shut up, Loiosh." "I beg your pardon?" "Never mind. Private joke.

I shall draw forth thy bones one by one ere I send thee to the devil. So that for all time thy shapeless body shall serve a a carpet for all the minions of Hell.

Chaler, who had finished his ale, left the cup where it was, making no effort to procure more, indicating that he was capable of what the natural philosopher calls "learning behaviour," which turn of phrase pleases us so much that we cannot resist making use of it.

I'm a decent cook. I'm an outstanding eater.

It is as if I have changed in some way, but I can't tell what it is, or if it will fade with time.

As I passed a market, I thought I saw Devera, Aliera's daughter, looking at me. I almost stopped, but when I looked again she was gone, so I decided I was either imagining it, or she didn't want to talk to me. She is a very unusual child, but I guess now isn't the best time for that conversation. I put it out of my head and kept walking until I reached the Imperial Palace.

Ah, you poor fools, walking so tall and haughty with your guns and your sticks and your wide belts full of gear like the second coming of Batman, sitting in your little cars full of mechanized fear as you reach for your little radios at the first sign of anything more worrisome than a jaywalker.

That's what does it-- that moment where you think you're lost, and then discover that you're not, that you've never really left. There's something that happens in that incredible tiny no-time, and that something is like the revelation of learning.

You connect yourself to the viewer by by sharing something that is inside of you that connects with something inside of him. All you have as your guide is that you know what moves you.

it is not the lack of wit or intellect that shallow men crave [in women], it is lack of personality; they desire a woman who will exist only as a shadow to themselves, because this gives them the illusion that they have some importance, that they are more than cattle.

Crying is not a sadness, because as the tears leave our eyes, some of the pain leaves, too, and we can go on living, and so feel more pain, yes, but some joy, as well. The line between sanity and madness may be only the ability to shed a few tears.

Any point in a process looks like the process was leading up to it if that's as far as you've gotten.

xxx it is not lack of wit or intellect that shallow men crave, it is lack of personality; they desire a woman who will exist only as a shadow to themselves, because this gives them the illusion that they have some importance, that they are more than cattle. Personality is what distinguishes us from each other, what makes each man and woman unique, and to submerge one's personality is to make one's self interchangeable, like a mass-produced commodity; xxx

Some things you just can't fight, and sneezing is like falling in love. There's little you can do about it, and it makes you look ridiculous and sometimes makes your eyes water.

I once had someone explain to me that we don't have real interactions with people, we have interactions with the image of those people we carry in our heads. I don't know. Maybe. But I figure if I stick a Great Weapon into a guy's eye, it's close enough to a real interaction for most purposes.

Being rich means making everything inconvenient. Remember to attribute that when you quote it. T-A-L-T-O-S.

When you have understood the piece of the world you want to change, and aligned your will with the world as it actually is, then and only then can you begin to change it;

I have a clever and devious plan.