Quote

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.

Scott Lynch

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Scott Lynch
Age: 46
Born: 1978
Born: April 2
Author
Novelist
Writer
St Paul
Minnesota
Winning
Tougher
Turns
Punch
Hope
Fond
Someone
Gods
Around
Teeth
Way
Straight
Bigger
Turn
Chased

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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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Nobody admires anyone else without qualification. If they do they're after an image, not a person.
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To us — richer and cleverer than everyone else!
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Any man can fart in a closed room and say that he commands the wind
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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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Are you smarter than a pig, Locke?” “On occasion,” said Locke. “There are contrary opinions.
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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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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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You're ten pints of crazy in a one-pint glass.
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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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When the sky’s falling, I take shelter under bullshit.
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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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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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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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My disinterest in your bullshit is so tangible you could make bricks out of it
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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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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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If reassurances could dull pain, nobody would ever go to the trouble of pressing grapes.
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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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It was strange, how readily authority could be conjured with nothing but a bit of strutting jackassery.
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