Quotes from Jim Butcher

After all, Bob himself was, essentially, a spiritual creature created from the energy of thought. The characters within a book were, from a certain point of view, identical on some fundamental level--there weren't any images of them, no physical tangibility whatsoever. They were pictures In the reader's head, constructs of imagination and ideas, given shape by the writer's work and skill and the reader's imagination. Parents, of a sort.

There was a horrible, wrenching sound, a screech of protesting metal, and one of the screams peaked at a shivering, violent point—then dissolved into a strangled mishmash of sounds, of tearing and snapping and popping, of gurgling and thudding. And when they were finished, something, something big, with a cavernous, resonating chest, snarled from not ten feet beyond the security door.

The reward for work well-done is more work. "Ain't that the truth," I muttered. I stuffed the book back in my pocket and hit the road again.

It took shape and stood up, an enormous creature of vaguely human shape made all of earth and root and bough, twin points of brilliant emerald-green light burning in its vine-writhing, leaf-strewn head. It had to have been nine or ten feet tall, and nearly that far across. Its legs were thicker than me, and branches spread out above its head like vast horns against the background of luminous mind fog. The creature lifted its head

Hero, noun 1. a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities 2. a sandwich

none of us ever really escapes the past. It just keeps coming back to haunt you.

We're always disappointed when we find out someone has human limits, the same as we do. It's stupid for us to feel that way, and we really ought to know better, but that doesn't seem to slow us down.

So what is he? Some kind of eternal soldier? Maybe a sleeping Arthurian knight woken in this desperate age to battle the forces of evil?" "As far as I know he's a carpenter.

She was wearing jeans, a black tank top, and a loose black man's shirt

I get more threats before nine a.m. than most people get all day

She practically glowed. Once or twice, after a compliment, she'd literally glowed, but we'd gotten that under control within a month or two.

I'll tell the killer to be sure to operate during business hours next time.

You don't think about everything you have to do. You focus on one thing and get it done, then move on to the next.

Loneliness is a hard thing to handle. I feel it, sometimes. When I do, I want it to end. Sometimes, when you're near someone, when you touch them on some level that is deeper than the uselessly structured formality of casual civilized interaction, there's a sense of satisfaction in it. Or at least, there is for me.

You can't fix tomorrow until it gets here." "Which is weird, because you can screw it up from decades away.

For the sake of one soul. For one loved one. For one life.' I called power into my blasting rod, and its tip glowed incandescent white. 'The way I see it, there's nothing else worth fighting a war for.

I eventually came to realise that I was a part of his little family, and by his gracious consent was allowed to remain in his apartment. Cats. Go figure.

I know you must be angry." "I burn things to ash and smash holes in buildings when I'm angry," I said. "I'm a couple of steps past that point right now.

If you had, you'd realize what an incredible force you have working on your side." "The A-Team?" "Bureaucracy," Murphy said. "I would rather have the A-Team.

What do we have left?" "Persons," I said quietly. "I don't understand," Susan said. "As a whole, people suck," I replied. "But a person can be extraordinary.

Here's something else I bet you didn't know about Tyrannosaurs: they don't corner well

Ya te lo dije» preventivos —señalé—. Ahora sí que lo he visto todo.

The thing about creatures as big as the Jotun is that they come without power steering.

Death comes, old man. Its hand is on your heart now. And your life has been spent in vain.