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So there I was being strangled by a ranting, half-naked madman in the middle of the woods, with a she-werewolf dangling from a rope snare somewhere nearby.

Jim Butcher

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Jim Butcher
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: October 26
Actor
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Independence
Missouri
Half
Snares
Werewolf
Madmen
Ranting
Rope
Dangling
Woods
Strangled
Naked
Snare
Somewhere
Nearby
Middle
Madman

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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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Being a wizard gives you more power than most, but it doesn't change your heart. We're all human. We're all of us equally naked before the jaws of pain.
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There are old swordsmen and bold swordsmen. But few old, bold swordsmen.
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It's not my fault all women like motorcycles, Murph. They're basically huge vibrators. With wheels.
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My laboratory,' I said, experimentally, drawing out each syllable. 'Why is it that saying it like that always makes me want to follow it with 'mwoo-hah-hah-hahhhhh'? ' 'You were overexposed to Hammer Films as a child?' - Harry Dresden & Bob the Skull, Changes, Jim Butcher
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Time after time, history demonstrates that when people don't want to believe something, they have enormous skills of ignoring it altogether.
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A succubus on the set. Strike that, the health-conscious kid sister made it two… succubuses. Succubusees? Succubi? Stupid Latin correspondence course.
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Maybe,” he said in a slow, rural drawl, “you could explain to me why I found you in the middle of an orgy.” “Well,” I said, “if you’re going to be in an orgy, the middle is the best spot, isn’t it.
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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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Nay, but prithee, with sprinkles 'pon it instead, I said solemnly, and frosting of white.
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Molly blinked, then looked at Thomas and said, Wait a minute.... We're his flunkies. You, may be, Thomas said, sneering. I'm his thug. I'm way higher than a flunky. You are high if you think I'm taking any orders from you, Molly said tartly.
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We've both got into the blue beetle. He got into the red door, I got into the white one.
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Okay, Kincaid said. Anyone have any questions? Why do they sell hot dogs in packages of ten but hot dog buns in packages of eight?
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Marcone's scum... But he's his own scum.
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Better safe than exsanguinated.
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Here had lived someone else who knew that the only thing waiting at home was a sense of loneliness. Sometimes it is comforting. Most often, it isn't.
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It would require a singularly stupid man to go hang around in narrow tunnels and cramped spaces alongside a threat like that. And I, Harry Dresden, am that man, I stated.
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It was never too late to learn something. The past is unalterable in any event. The future is the only thing we can change. Learning the lessons of the past is the only way to shape the present and the future.
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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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You don't take your cat with you to go bird shopping. Not because the cat isn't polite, but because he's a cat.
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