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Kids. You gotta love them. I adore children. A little salt, a squeeze of lemon--perfect.

Jim Butcher

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Jim Butcher
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: October 26
Actor
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Independence
Missouri
Little
Squeeze
Children
Lemons
Love
Adore
Salt
Gotta
Perfect
Kids
Littles
Lemon

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I checked my gear, my pockets, my shoelaces, and realized that I had crossed the line between making sure I was ready and trying to postpone the inevitable.
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Could a man's heart, his soul, perish and yet leave him walking and talking as if alive?
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You can't plan for everything or you never get started in the first place.
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There is no spoon. I am completely spoonless over here.
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Nay, but prithee, with sprinkles 'pon it instead, I said solemnly, and frosting of white.
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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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When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching - they are your family.
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Not gonna bind ya or break ya, old spirit. Just gonna kick your ass up between your ears.
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For me chivalry isn't dead it's an involuntary reflex.
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Growing up is all about getting hurt. And then getting over it. You hurt. You recover. You move on. Odds are pretty good you're just going to get hurt again. But each time, you learn something.
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It isn't enough to stand up and fight darkness. You've got to stand apart from it, too. You've got to be different from it.
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You know how confusing the whole good-evil concept is for me.
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Chili dogs, funnel cakes, fried bread, majorly greasy pizza, candy apples, ye gods. Evil food smells amazing -- which is either proof that there is a Satan or some equivalent out there, or that the Almighty doesn't actually want everyone to eat organic tofu all the time. I can't decide.
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You never get a straight answer from captains. You should know that by now.
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Caring about someone isn't complicated. It isn't easy. But it isn't complicated, either. Kinda like lifting the engine block out of a car.
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Apocalypse is a frame of mind. [Nicodemus] said then. A belief. A surrender to inevitability. It is a despair for the future. It is the death of hope.
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You're dead, son. Cheer is contraindicated.
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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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