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Maxilan, darling. Locke raised one eyebrow and smiled. I knew you were driven, but I had no idea you could smoulder. Come, take me now! Jean won't mind he'll avert his eyes like a gentleman.

Scott Lynch

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Scott Lynch
Age: 46
Born: 1978
Born: April 2
Author
Novelist
Writer
St Paul
Minnesota
Eyes
Jean
Eye
Eyebrows
Idea
Smiled
Ideas
Darling
Come
Gentleman
Take
Driven
Locke
Mind
Raised
Eyebrow
Like
Knew
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When the sky’s falling, I take shelter under bullshit.
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Only one way to win when you're being chased by someone bigger and tougher than you. Turn straight around, punch their teeth out, and hope the gods are fond of you.
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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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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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My name's Jean Tannen, and I'm the ambush.
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If reassurances could dull pain, nobody would ever go to the trouble of pressing grapes.
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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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There are only three people in life you can never fool--pawnbrokers, whores, and your mother. Since your mother's dead, I've taken her place. Hence, I'm bullshit-proof.
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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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You're ten pints of crazy in a one-pint glass.
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I can’t name the poison that’s killing your friend. But the one that’s killing you is called hope.
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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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Cold walls do not a prison make, nor iron bands a bondsman.
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Worst of all, the inner vault is guarded by a live dragon, attended by fifty naked women armed with poisoned spears, each of them sworn to die in Requin's service. All redheads. -You're just making that up, Jean.
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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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Yeah, but if I don't start my nervous pacing now, I'll never have it all done in time.
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Any man can fart in a closed room and say that he commands the wind
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You simply collapsed, sir. In layman's terms, your body revoked its permission for you to continue heaping abuse upon it.
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When you can't cheat the game, you'd best find a means to cheat the players.
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