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A little humiliation and ego deflation, now and then, is good for apprentices. Mine sighed miserably.

Jim Butcher

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Jim Butcher
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: October 26
Actor
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Independence
Missouri
Littles
Deflation
Little
Miserably
Good
Sighed
Apprentice
Humiliation
Ego
Mines
Mine
Apprentices

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When a young writer comes up to me with an ambitious idea for a 20-book series, I usually tell him to maybe try something smaller to start off with.
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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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Molly was arrested. Possession.” I blinked at him. “She was possessed?
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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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Life would be unbearably dull if we had answers to all our questions.
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Everyone is down on pain, because they forget something important about it: Pain is for the living. Only the dead don't feel it.
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Got to die of something, Giraldi observed. Might as well put back a few pints while you wait to see what it is.
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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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I mean it, I said. You're in danger. Relax, Harry. I'm not letting anyone lick me, and I'm not looking anyone in the eyes. It's kind of like visiting New York.
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Life is full of toil, sacrifice, and pain, and from the time we stop growing, we know that we've begun dying. We watch helplessly as year by year, our bodies age and fail, while our survival instincts compel us to keep on going-which means living with the terrifying knowledge that ultimately death is inescapable.
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You killed my dog! Get your affairs in order.
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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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The fire of my tribulations had not simply been pain to be endured. It had been an agent of transformation. After all that I'd been through, I'd changed. Not for the worse, I was pretty sure--at least not yet. But only a moron or a freaking lunatic could have faced the things I had and remained unfazed by them.
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My main source for faith-based stuff is mostly the Bible, and a childhood with a much, much higher-than-median exposure to theological thought.
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Everyone stopped to blink at that for a second. I mean, come on. Impaled by a guided frozen turkey missile. Even by the standards of the quasi-immortal creatures of the night, that ain't something you see twice. For my next trick, I panted into the startled silence, anvils.
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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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Fear is bred from ignorance. So knowledge is a weapon against it, and reason is the tool of knowledge.
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I am blind and limited. I would be a fool think myself wise. And so, not knowing what the universe means, I can only try to be responsible with the knowledge, the strength, and the time given to me. I must be true to my heart.
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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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Where instinct fails, intellect must venture.
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