Quotes from Scott Lynch

I didn't promise you shit. My dead friends, on the other hand--I made them certain promises I intend to keep.

You can knock down kingdoms on a whim. What you need is someone to make sure you don't get hit by a carriage when you cross the street.

I think piracy is a bit like drinking. You want to stay out all night doing it, you pay the price the next day.

What thief does not fight to hold what he has?" "One that has something better," said Locke.

In a fair fight, the don's man would almost certainly paint the walls with Locke and Calo's blood, so it stood to reason that this fight would have to be as unfair as possible.

You're ten pints of crazy in a one-pint glass.

Jean," Locke gasped out during a brief lull between spasms of retching, "next time I conceive a plan like this, consider putting a hatchet in my skull." "Hardly efficacious." Jean swapped a full bucket for an empty one and gave Locke a friendly pat on the back. "Dulling my nice sharp blades on a skull as thick as yours...

We have a new problem, fresh from the oven and hot as hell.

Jassaline's little potion seems to have brought up every meal I've had in the past five years." said Locke. "Nothing left to spit up but my naked soul. Make sure it isn't floating around in one of those before you toss them, right?" "I think I see it," Jean said. "Nasty, crooked little thing it is too; you're better off with it floating out to sea.

You're my favorite complication.

Gentlemen Bastards." hissed Locke, "do not abandon one another, and we do not run when we owe vengeance.

Look for us in history books and you'll find us in the margins. Look for us in legends, and you might just find us celebrated.

I'm not beholden to the confirmation of your prejudices; to be perfectly frank, the prospect of confining the female characters in my story to placid, helpless secondary places in the narrative is so goddamn boring that I would rather not write at all.

Key, crown, child," he muttered. "Well, fuck you, Patience. Three things must you kiss before I let you spook me for good. My boots, my balls, and my ass.

Good. Well. Shit." Locke rubbed his gloved hands together. "I guess that's that. I'm all out of rhetorical flourishes.

You've the presence of a mouse fart in a high wind. Stand aside, and try not to catch fire if I shed sparks of genius.

Justice is red.

all apologies for getting most of your fortune buried under shit. I hope we can all still be friends.

I'm a little overdressed for this, but I think I can compensate by toning down my manners." "Overdressed for what?" said Jean. "Insulting complete strangers," said Locke, loosening his neck-cloth. "Got to mind the delicate social nuances when you inform some poor fellow that he's a dumb motherfucker.

The only constant in the soul of man is inconstancy; anything and everything else can pass out of fashion--even something as utilitarian as a hill stuffed full of corpses.

The water caught the Falselight glimmer like layers of shifting, translucent mirrors and formed split-second works of art in the air, but men cursed it anyway, because it made their heads wet.

They kissed for the sort of endless moment that only exists between lovers whose lips are still new territory to one another.

I keep asking myself," whispered Sabetha, giving Locke's arm a squeeze, "ARE we smarter than that woman's chicken?" "At the moment, it's an open question," said Locke.

Can you imagine those poor bastards grappling their prey, leaping over the rails, swords in hand, screaming 'Your cats! Give us all your god-damned cats!