Quotes from William Lashner

no smell of piss or green beans. That was how you could tell for sure it was an upscale old-age joint. It smelled instead like a summer meadow, it smelled of daisies, it smelled like a preview of coming attractions.

When your ambition is so wrought that you're never satisfied, it takes a load of pressure off. Every spot on the ladder is equally disappointing because it is not the rung above. Which means I've perfectly filled my potential; I've reached as high as I'll ever get, the point of not good enough.

are two types of the mentally deficient in this world. The first type mistake their lack of understanding for bold perception. This type of deficiency is often found in urologists and presidential candidates and is as dangerous as the plague.

And he clutched it tight in his fist, as if it were his final, brightest hope in a world of tragic illusions.

History is a warning to ourselves, and only by remembering where we have been and how low we have fallen can we know to where we aspire, but we lose everything when it is history that drives us completely, as it drove Nat and his mother and her mother

I wouldn't have gone to the trouble of hurting him if I was going to kill him

Remember, the surest way to lose your rights is to take them for granted.

It's funny what kind of hell you can get used to.

bike was old and loud and smelled like something was burning when he rode it, but it was also loaded with chrome, its tank was a sweet cobalt blue, and with the detachable windshield and leather saddlebags that came with it, it was in shape enough to carry him out onto the road all over again.

All the lies ever told in a bar could be distilled into three: I'm not a drunk; I'm not trying to pick your pocket; I'm not looking for meaningless impersonal sex.

That was part of the job, to pretend to listen, to feign concern. There are three professions who play at that game; barkeeps are the ones who do it on their feet.

Sex is never between the lines. Between the sheets, yes, but not between the lines.

The barkeep sliced a lime in half, squeezed the juice from each half into a jigger, dropped one of the emptied hulls into the glass along with a shot of the juice.

Justin had learned long ago that looking for truth in a bar is like looking for sex in a convent, you might eventually find something worth all the trouble, but the search will be long and full of the deepest frustrations.

I expect to lose. I always do. And life seems eager to exceed my expectations.

He shared Erica's contempt for all those who tried to fill their holes in such places, all those who felt the key to life was getting enough money to frequent better and more exclusive versions of the very same crapholes. They had sentenced themselves to the chain gang, toiling under the reflective glasses of banker guards as they worked the road in an endless bulimic slog of earning and spending, acquiring, devouring, vomiting up the excess just so they could devour more.

I was ready to lose everything for a hope I now knew was false. I now knew it was false, impossible, ruined already by my own hand, and still I had no choice

We talked about this before. The rare beauty of nonattachment.

You get into a habit of low expectations, which gives you a sort of contentment. You go through life as if through a mist, seeing little farther than your nose and scorning all that only appears wispy and faint. Then a bolt of lightning splits the mist and gives you a glimpse of all you might be missing.

It's not easy, that's all I can tell you. Living your own life is hard. It's easier just going along, doing what they tell you to do.

arm, two long candlesticks, one

Can't say that I have." "It's not too hard if you ignore all the hard ways to do it. Just squeeze a pomegranate in a juicer, heat the juice enough to mix in an equal amount of sugar, and then for each cup of juice, add an ounce of pomegranate molasses and half a teaspoon of orange-blossom water. Simple as that.

Everyone has something to teach you, Duddleman, if you can bear to stay quiet enough to listen.

Between us lay all the moments when, instead of confiding wholly one in the other and placing our hearts on the line, we had settled for less. Between us lay routine and habit and the taking of one another for granted. Between us lay the years of our marriage. That those years had become a barrier instead of a lovely shared connection was a tragedy,