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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.

Scott Lynch

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Scott Lynch
Age: 46
Born: 1978
Born: April 2
Author
Novelist
Writer
St Paul
Minnesota
Killing
Friend
Name
Called
Names
Hope
Poison

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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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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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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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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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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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If reassurances could dull pain, nobody would ever go to the trouble of pressing grapes.
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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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You're ten pints of crazy in a one-pint glass.
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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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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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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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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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Nobody admires anyone else without qualification. If they do they're after an image, not a person.
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Are you smarter than a pig, Locke?” “On occasion,” said Locke. “There are contrary opinions.
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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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When the sky’s falling, I take shelter under bullshit.
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Any man can fart in a closed room and say that he commands the wind
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My name's Jean Tannen, and I'm the ambush.
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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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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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