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Are you smarter than a pig, Locke?” “On occasion,” said Locke. “There are contrary opinions.
Scott Lynch
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Scott Lynch
Age: 46
Born: 1978
Born: April 2
Author
Novelist
Writer
St Paul
Minnesota
Opinion
Locke
Pigs
Occasion
Smarter
Occasions
Opinions
Contrary
More quotes by Scott Lynch
My disinterest in your bullshit is so tangible you could make bricks out of it
Scott Lynch
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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Any man can fart in a closed room and say that he commands the wind
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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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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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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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To us — richer and cleverer than everyone else!
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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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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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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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When the sky’s falling, I take shelter under bullshit.
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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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If reassurances could dull pain, nobody would ever go to the trouble of pressing grapes.
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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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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 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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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.
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My name's Jean Tannen, and I'm the ambush.
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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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