Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files, #8)

by Jim Butcher

‘That’s paradox, and it can have all kinds of nasty backlash. Theory holds that it could even destroy our reality if it happened in a weak enough spot. But that’s never been proven, and never happened. You can tell, on account of how everything keeps existing.’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘You have dog issues.’ ‘Big dog issues,’ Murphy corrected me. ‘Just big dogs.’ ‘Mouse isn’t big. He’s compactly challenged.’

‘You predicted quick victory. Now it’s going to get hopelessly complicated. Jesus, don’t you know any better than that by now?’

‘Dresden Taxidermy,’ I said. ‘You snuff it, we’ll stuff it.’

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of trauma, I will fear no concussion.

‘Power,’ he said, waving a hand in an all-encompassing gesture. ‘All power is the same. Magic. Physical strength. Economic strength. Political strength. It all serves a single purpose – it gives its possessor a broader spectrum of choices. It creates alternative courses of action.’

There is something holy, something divine, hidden in the most ordinary situations, and it is up to each one of you to discover it.’

I don’t care about whose DNA has recombined with whose. When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching – they are your family.

Hey. I don’t care what kind of faerie or mortal or hideous creature you are. If you’ve got danglies and can lose them, that’s the kind of sight that makes you reconsider the possible genitalia-related ramifications of your actions real damned quick.

Children are a precious gift, but they belong to no one but themselves. They are only lent us a little while.’

I leaned closer and gave her the look I usually save for rampaging demons and those survey people at malls.