No big deal. We all have blood in us, the trick is keeping it inside.
Anybody can be charming if they don't mind faking it, saying all the stupid, obvious, nauseating things that a conscience keeps most people from saying. Happily, I don't have a conscience. I say them.
Nothing in life is fair. Fair is a dirty word and I'll thank you not to use that language around me.
Weren't we all crazy in our sleep? What was sleep, after all, but the process by which we dumped our insanity into a dark subconscious pit and came out on the other side ready to eat cereal instead of our neighbor's children?
I don't do my job to catch the bad guys. Why would I want to do that? No, I do my job to make order out of chaos.
I often find myself in situations where it seems to me like everyone else has read the instruction book
I don't know if you have noticed this, but it is quite possible for two human beings to have a conversation in which one or both parties involved has absolutely no idea what they're talking about.
Life's only obligation, afterall, was to be interesting.
And I was having too much fun to stop now.
We can't always do what we think we have to do. So when there's nothing else you can do, you wait... No matter what... pressure... you might feel.
I know family comes first, but shouldn't that mean after breakfast?
She really did like me, the idiot.
Money to me had always been merely something the sheep used to show each other how wonderful they were.
Now I know what it is like to feel like a total idiot.
The key to a happy life is to have accomplishments to be proud of and purpose to look forward to, and at the moment I had both. How wonderful it was to be me.
...being torn apart by far too many loyalties that could not possibly live together in the same brain.
First things first has always been my motto, mostly because it makes absolutely no sense - after all, if first things were second or third, they wouldn't be first things, would they? Still, cliches exist to comfort the feeble minded, not to provide any actual meaning.
I had killed our careful relationship by driving my tongue through its heart and pushing it off a cliff.
I think people understand things different when they get older. It’s not a question of getting soft, or seeing things in the gray areas instead of black and white. I really believe I’m just understanding things different. Better.
Dying makes everyone weaker, subject to painful insight, and not always insight into any kind of special truth - it's just the approaching end that makes people want to believe they are seeing something in the line of a great revelation.
As I've said, freedom is really an illusion. Anytime we think we have a real choice, it just means we haven't seen the shotgun aimed at our navel.
But as I have noticed on more than one occaision, life itself is unfair, and there is no complaint department, so we might as well accept things the way they happen, clean up the mess, and move on.
Our universe is ruled by random whim, inhabited by people who laugh at logic.
A reasonable being might think that he and I could find some common ground; have a cup of coffee and compare our Passengers, exchange trade talk and chitchat about dismemberment techniques. But no: Doakes wanted me dead. And I found it difficult to share his point of view.
A man who discovers his pants are on fire tends to have very little time to worry about somebody else's box of matches
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