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I could buy that she would murder me in a fit of rage, poison me out of flaming jealousy, or bomb my car out of sheer, stubborn pique. But she would never do it and feel nothing.

Jim Butcher

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Jim Butcher
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: October 26
Actor
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Independence
Missouri
Feel
Sheer
Feels
Bombs
Never
Poison
Would
Rage
Pique
Murder
Flaming
Fit
Bomb
Car
Stubborn
Nothing
Jealousy

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Faith is about what you do. It's about aspiring to be better and nobler and kinder than you are. It's about making sacrifices for the good of others-- even when there's not going to be anyone telling you what a hero you are.
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I like dogs. They give Mister something to snack on.
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Regardless of what I think about Islam or Wicca or any other religion, the fact is that it's a group of people. Every faith has its ceremonies. And since it's made up of people, every faith also has its assholes.
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No story that juicy was going to stay secret for long.
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A little humiliation and ego deflation, now and then, is good for apprentices. Mine sighed miserably.
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Molly, you are a good person. Don't let anyone take that away from you. Not even yourself.
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Just remember that you're on my list, Marcone. Soon as I get done with all the other evils in this town, you won't be the lesser of them anymore. Marcone stared at me with half-lidded eyes and said, Eek.
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Even in winter, the cold isn't always bitter, and not every day is cruel.
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How long have you been a Wiccan?' 'A what?' 'A pagan. A witch.' 'I'm not a witch,' I said, glancing out the door. 'I'm a wizard.' Sanya frowned. 'What is the difference?' 'Wizard has a Z' He looked at me blankly. 'No one appreciates me.' I muttered.
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When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching - they are your family.
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Thomas was an annoying wiseass who tended to make everyone he met want to kill him, and when I have that much in common with someone, I can't help but like him a little.
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Fear is bred from ignorance. So knowledge is a weapon against it, and reason is the tool of knowledge.
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You are a drug dealer. To tiny faeries. Shame. Sanya to Dresden
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I like to stay cozy with my paranoia, not pass her around to my friends and family.
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Do you want your blood to stay where it is sochar-lar? Tavi lifted both eyebrows at the unfamiliar word, and glanced at Varg. Monkey, Varg supplied, in Aleran. And male-child. He called me monkey boy? Tavi asked.
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Oh, I forgot to mention it: My brother is the kind of man whom women stalk. In cooperative packs.
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An inferior sense of smell, Marcus said, as if absolutely nothing of significance had happened, is distinct from being told that one smells unpleasant.
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You think this is going to work? This peaceful summit thing?” “Sure,” I said. After a second, I added, “Probably.” “Probably?” “Maybe,” I said. “We’re down to maybe now?” I shrugged. “We’ll see.
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