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Night wasn't so much falling as sharpening its claws.

Jim Butcher

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Jim Butcher
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: October 26
Actor
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Independence
Missouri
Night
Much
Sharpening
Claws
Falling
Wasn
Fall

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Because nothing says flattery like a gun to the head.
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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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For me chivalry isn't dead it's an involuntary reflex.
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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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No matter where you go, there you are. (Uriel to Harry Dresden)
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Thank God for wisecracks.
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I like dogs. They give Mister something to snack on.
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Paranoid? Probably. But just because you're paranoid doesn't mean there isn't an invisible demon about to eat your face.
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Ease off the martyr throttle.
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It isn't good to hold on too hard to the past. You can't spend your whole life looking back. Not even when you can't see what lies ahead. All you can do is keep on keeping on, and try to believe that tomorrow will be what it should be—even if it isn't what you expected.
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There is no spoon. I am completely spoonless over here.
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Sometimes I think that's where most of us are. Fighting off the crazy as best we can. Trying to become something better than we were. It's that second bit that's important.
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I had to smile at the man. I mean, you have to smile at idiots and children.
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Alone. It's one of those small words that means entirely too much. Like fear. Or trust.
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Life is too short, Harry. And there's nowhere near enough joy in it. If you find it, grab it. Before it's gone.
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Magic comes from what is inside you. It is a part of you. You can't weave together a spell that you don't beleive in.
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Murphy had found a spot on the street, which made me wonder if she didn't have some kind of magical talent after all. Only some kind of precognitive ESP could have gotten us a parking space on the street, in the shadow of a building, with both of us in sight of the apartment building's entrance.
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You’re playing the creepy vibe a little hard,” I said. “Might as well go for broke, put on a black top hat and pipe in some organ music.
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Pansy, Murphy sneered. Thomas leered at her. You make my stamen tingle when you talk like that, Sergeant.
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Jump into an open grave? What kind of idiot are you? Butters replied. I might as well put on a red shirt and volunteer for the away team. There's snow and ice and slippery mud down there. That's like asking for an ironically broken neck.
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