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She studied my face for a long minute. Are you going to help my mom? It was a simple question. But how do you tell a child that things just aren't that simple, that some questions don't have simple answers--or any answer at all?

Jim Butcher

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Jim Butcher
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: October 26
Actor
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Independence
Missouri
Tell
Question
Children
Answers
Studied
Going
Child
Minute
Long
Face
Mom
Things
Help
Questions
Simple
Answer
Faces
Aren
Helping
Minutes

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I believe that there's a cloud for every silver lining,' I said.
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I just stood there staring, because while I've seen a lot of weird things, I hadn't ever seen that.
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Because nothing says flattery like a gun to the head.
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The fire of my tribulations had not simply been pain to be endured. It had been an agent of transformation. After all that I'd been through, I'd changed. Not for the worse, I was pretty sure--at least not yet. But only a moron or a freaking lunatic could have faced the things I had and remained unfazed by them.
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You can't abandon life just because it's scary, and just because you get hurt.
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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.
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Marcone's scum... But he's his own scum.
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The human mind is not a terribly logical or consistent place.
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I'm not a philosopher, Harry, [Michael] said. But here's something for you to think about, at least. What goes around comes around. And sometimes you get what's coming around. He paused for a moment, frowning faintly, pursing his lips. And sometimes you are what's coming around.
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For me chivalry isn't dead it's an involuntary reflex.
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I kept a straight face while my inner Neanderthal spluttered and then went on a mental rampage through a hypothetical produce section, knocking over shelves and spattering fruit everywhere in sheer frustration, screaming, 'JUST TELL ME WHOSE SKULL TO CRACK WITH MY CLUB, DAMMIT!
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Knowledge is the ultimate weapon. It always has been.
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I put it down to the paranoia of advancing age. It isn't like I'm all that old or anything, especially for a wizard, but age is always advancing and I'm fairly sure it's up to no good.
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All right. Tell me what I'm looking at. From the improvised Rolling Stones T-shirt bag tied to my sash, Bob the Skull said, in his most caustic voice, A giant pair of cartoon lips. I muttered a curse and fumbled with the shirt until one of the skull's glowing orange eye sockets was visible. A big goofy magic nerd! Bob said.
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Sheep can befriend a hungry wolf only for briefly.
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You're dead, son. Cheer is contraindicated.
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Discretion is the better part of not getting exsanguinated.
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Karrin, eh? Thomas asked. I nodded. She's real serious about order. A man dying, she can understand. A man coming back. That's different. Isn't she Catholic? Thomas asked. Don't they have a guy?
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Isana felt her throat tighten. We failed. Serai lifted her chin and patted Isana's arm firmly. We have not yet succeeded. There is a difference.
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The next time you interfere with me, more than smoke will interfere with you.
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