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Yeah, but if I don't start my nervous pacing now, I'll never have it all done in time.
Scott Lynch
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Scott Lynch
Age: 46
Born: 1978
Born: April 2
Author
Novelist
Writer
St Paul
Minnesota
Nervous
Yeah
Start
Done
Never
Time
Pacing
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Any man can fart in a closed room and say that he commands the wind
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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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When the sky’s falling, I take shelter under bullshit.
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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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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 simply collapsed, sir. In layman's terms, your body revoked its permission for you to continue heaping abuse upon it.
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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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Are you smarter than a pig, Locke?” “On occasion,” said Locke. “There are contrary opinions.
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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're ten pints of crazy in a one-pint glass.
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To us — richer and cleverer than everyone else!
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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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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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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 name's Jean Tannen, and I'm the ambush.
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Cold walls do not a prison make, nor iron bands a bondsman.
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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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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 can’t name the poison that’s killing your friend. But the one that’s killing you is called hope.
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