Sharp Ends (First Law World #7)

by Joe Abercrombie

‘If you want to forget your troubles, why live with them till lunchtime?’

He hoped none of these folk died today, and became nothing but dirt and worn-out memories.

You can never have too many knives, someone once told him, and it was solid advice,

‘It is the least I could do. You have been a fine sidekick so far.’ ‘I thought this was an equal partnership.’ ‘All the best sidekicks think that,’

‘If you have to tell someone you are furious, and then, furthermore, that you mean it, your fury has failed to achieve its desired effect.’

It was like old Threetrees always said–a sword’s a shitty thing to give a man. Shitty for him, and shitty for everyone around him.

Wrongside hated fighting. Far as he could tell, it was the one major drawback of the soldiering life. Apart from the hunger. And the cold. And the threat of hanging and burning. The soldiering life had a lot of drawbacks, in fact, now he came to consider the case.

Javre’s red hair was a snarled-up tangle, matted with ash, with slime, with food, with things that could not be identified. That should not be identified, lest they offend God to the extent that he felt obliged to end creation.

You’ve got to be realistic, that old Northman on the farm near Squaredeal used to tell her. Got to be realistic.