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When you can't cheat the game, you'd best find a means to cheat the players.
Scott Lynch
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Scott Lynch
Age: 46
Born: 1978
Born: April 2
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St Paul
Minnesota
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Games
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Cheat
More quotes by Scott Lynch
I think piracy is a bit like drinking. You want to stay out all night doing it, you pay the price the next day.
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My name's Jean Tannen, and I'm the ambush.
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As for history, we are living in its ruins. And as for biographies, we are living with the consequences of all the decisions ever made in them. I tend not to read them for pleasure. It’s not unlike carefully scrutinizing the map when one has already reached the destination.
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Advice,' Doña Vorchenza chuckled. 'Advice. The years play a sort of alchemical trick, transmuting one's mutterings to a state of respectability. Give advice at forty and you're a nag. Give it at seventy and you're a sage.
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A boy may be as disagreeable as he pleases, but when a girl refuses to crap sunshine on command, the world mutters darkly about her moods.
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Any man can fart in a closed room and say that he commands the wind
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This is where you and I are headed.... Look for us in history books and you'll find us in the margins. Look for us in legends and you might just find us celebrated
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I think it’s fairly common for writers to be afflicted with two simultaneous yet contradictory delusions, the burning certainty that we’re unique geniuses, and the constant fear that we’re witless frauds who are speeding toward epic failure.
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Cold walls do not a prison make, nor iron bands a bondsman.
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They kissed for the sort of endless moment that only exists between lovers whose lips are still new territory to one another.
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When the sky’s falling, I take shelter under bullshit.
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To us — richer and cleverer than everyone else!
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I'll wager I would have screwed things up regardless. But. . .can you imagine those poor bastards grappling their prey, leaping over the rails, swords in hand, screaming, 'Your cats! Give us all your gods-damned cats!
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If reassurances could dull pain, nobody would ever go to the trouble of pressing grapes.
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It was strange, how readily authority could be conjured with nothing but a bit of strutting jackassery.
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We’re a different sort of thief here, Lamora. Deception and misdirection are our tools. We don’t believe in hard work when a false face and a good line of bullshit can do so much more.
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The water caught the Falselight glimmer like layers of shifting, translucent mirrors and formed split-second works of art in the air, but men cursed it anyway, because it made their heads wet.
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You're ten pints of crazy in a one-pint glass.
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Yeah, but if I don't start my nervous pacing now, I'll never have it all done in time.
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What kind of knife is this?” Locke held a rounded buttering utensil up for Chains’ inspection. “It’s all wrong. You couldn’t kill anyone with this.
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