Quotes from Glen Cook

We looked at the village. I saw nothing that did not turn my stomach.

He lies ever upon his hoard, his heart jealous and mean. Never believe he has nodded because his eyes have closed. The dragon never sleeps.

Time will unfold its leaves.

I guess I suffer from an impoverishment of the sociopathic spirit necessary to go big time.

Where there is no waste, there is no want.

I am haunted by the clear knowledge that, in the end, evil always triumphs.

Morning is wonderful. Its only drawback is that it comes at such an inconvenient time of day.

Every ounce of my cynicism is supported by historical precedent.

More evil gets done in the name of righteousness than any other way.

Evil is relative…You can't hang a sign on it. You can't touch it or taste it or cut it with a sword. Evil depends on where you are standing, pointing your indicting finger.

Soldiers live. He dies and not you, and you feel guilty, because you're glad he died, and not you. Soldiers live, and wonder why.

Rich men have dreams. Poor men die to make them come true.

There were dreams once upon a time, dreams now all but forgotten. On sad days I dust them off and fondle them nostalgically, with a patronizing wonder at the naivete of the youth who dreamed them.

I believe in our side and theirs, with the good and evil decided after the fact, by those who survive. Among men you seldom find the good with one standard and the shadow with another.

and the thing that you know to be true is the lie that will kill you.

The man who counts on the aid of a god deserves the help he doesn't get.

There are no self-proclaimed villains, only regiments of self-proclaimed saints. Victorious historians rule where good or evil lies.

If one chooses sides on emotion then the rebel is the guy to go with. He is fighting for everything men claim to honour, freedom, independance, truth, the right.......all the subjective illusions. All the eternal trigger words. We are minions of the villan of the piece. We confess the illusion and deny the substance.

Oh, 'twould be marvelous if the world and its moral questions were like some game board, with plain black players and white, and fixed rules, and nary a shade of grey.

Consistency is the sign of a narrow mind.

In the night, when the wind dies and silence rules the place of glittering stone, I remember. And they all live again.

I'm an incurable romantic. The essence of romance is an unshakable conviction that next time will be different.

The only exercise I get is jumping to conclusions.

Write. Don't talk about writing. Don't tell me about your wonderful story ideas. Don't give me a bunch of 'somedays'. Plant your ass and scribble, type, keyboard. If you have any talent at all it will leak out despite your failure to pay attention in English." [ The Instrumentalities of the Night: An Interview with Glen Cook , The SF Site, September 2005]