Sharp Ends (First Law World, #7)

by Joe Abercrombie

His ego was so powerful it shone from him like a strange light, distorting the personalities of everyone around him at least halfway into being bastards themselves. Superiors became snivelling accomplices. Experts deferred to his ignorance. Decent men were reduced to sycophantic shits. Ladies of judgement to giggling cyphers.

Give a man a sword and he always acts the same, whatever the colour of his skin.

‘The greater a man’s power swells, the smaller his good qualities shrivel.’

‘Few of us indeed,’ said Shev, ‘are as funny as we think we are.’

Takes a lifetime of hard work to make a man. Only takes a few moments to end one.

a sword’s a shitty thing to give a man. Shitty for him, and shitty for everyone around him.

Surprise is like virginity. You only get the one chance at using it, and that normally turns out a crushing disappointment.

If you want to be a fine new person with a fine new life you’ve got to put the person you were behind you, like a snake sheds its skin. You’ve got to stop picking through your hoard of hurts and grievances like a miser through his coins, set ’em down and allow yourself to go free. You’ve got to forgive and you’ve got to trust, not because anyone else deserves it, but because you do.

You can make an argument for a knife. Sometimes people just need a knifing.