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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.

Jim Butcher

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Jim Butcher
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: October 26
Actor
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Independence
Missouri
Open
Shirts
Replied
Away
Graves
Volunteer
Wells
Idiot
Neck
Might
Snow
Shirt
Well
Red
Necks
Kind
Asking
Jump
Ironically
Like
Broken
Ice
Slippery
Team
Grave
Mud

More quotes by Jim Butcher

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I put on the boots and kicked some monster ass.
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Even in winter, the cold isn't always bitter, and not every day is cruel.
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Thomas has the kind of whiter-than-white boyish grin that makes women's panties spontaneously evaporate.
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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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There should be a rule against your own inner monologue throwing around that much sarcasm.
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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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I felt like I had just double-tapped Santa.
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Man. Being mostly dead is hard on a guy.
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A technicality I'm prepared to hide wildly behind.
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Go back,” he said. “Can’t. Stand aside?” “Can’t.” “So it’s like that?” I said. Fix exhaled. Then he nodded. “Yeah.” And for the first time in a decade the Winter Knight and Summer Knight went to war.
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My friend is going to save a little girl from monsters. I am going with him. That's what friends do.
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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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There's power in the night. There's terror in the darkness. Despite all our accumulated history, learning, and experience, we remember. We remember times when we were too small to reach the light switch on the wall, and when darkness itself was enough to make us cry out in fear.
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Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.
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In my judgment, my buildings are less likely to burn to the ground during one of your visits if you are disoriented from being treated like a sultan.
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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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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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Could a man's heart, his soul, perish and yet leave him walking and talking as if alive?
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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.
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You can't plan for everything or you never get started in the first place.
Jim Butcher