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Seemed being a better man might be harder work than he’d thought.
‘Love is a fine cushion to rest upon, but only hate can make you a better person.
as he shivered like a curled-up autumn leaf only just still clinging to its branch,
Once your hands are bloody, it ain’t so easy to get ’em clean.
Nice things, morals, but prone to chafe at times like this.
but the stone still sparkled bloodily as ever, the colour of a slit throat.
Loyalty on a mercenary is like armour on a swimmer.’
It sounded as if she was talking with her mouth full. It would, in fact, have been a surprise had she not been.
‘Shit at least makes flowers grow. Honour isn’t even that useful.’
silken cuffs drooping from his embroidered sleeves in a manner that implied he would never have to grip anything for himself.
His instincts told him simply to walk off into the night, and pay no further mind to Monzcarro Murcatto and her mad quest for vengeance. But he needed her money, and his instincts had never been worth a runny shit.
‘War without fire is as worthless as sausages without mustard’
‘Well, if life’s a joke,’ said Cosca, ‘it’s a black one.’
You start some trouble, it’s best to start it and finish it all at once. A bit of sharp violence can save you a lot worse down the line.
Men crashed together, killed and died, a formless soup of rage.
‘A man sleeps through most of his life, even when awake. You get so little time, yet still you spend it utterly oblivious. Angry, frustrated, fixated on meaningless nothings. That drawer does not close flush with the front of my desk. What cards does my opponent hold, and how much money can I win from him? I wish I were taller. What will I have for dinner, for I am not fond of parsnips?’
‘If there is one thing I have learned in all my many last stands, it is that death is never certain, only . . . extremely likely.’
The long hall that housed Duke Salier’s Styrian masterpieces was now further adorned by five corpses. The ultimate decoration for any palace, though the discerning dictator needs to replace them regularly if he is to avoid an odour. Especially in warm weather.
His look was one of bleary-eyed surprise, like a man who had woken up drunk to find himself robbed and tied naked to a post.
Victus was bald as an egg and gaunt as famine,
‘Nothing worse than too much plan. More there is to remember, more there is to make a shit of.
He’d yet to work out a way to scratch that itch that didn’t make matters worse. There’s vengeance for you.
sometimes you have to grasp the nettle.
bowing so low he almost tongued the stone.
