Turn Coat (The Dresden Files, #11)

by Jim Butcher

There are bad things in the world. There’s no getting away from that. But that doesn’t mean nothing can be done about them. You can’t abandon life just because it’s scary, and just because sometimes you get hurt.

“If a revolver was good enough for Indiana Jones,” I said, “it’s good enough for me.” “He was a fictional character, Harry.” Her mouth curved up in a small smile. “And he had a whip.”

Like “love,” “hope” is one of those ridiculously disproportional words that by all rights should be a lot longer.

I choose to trust Anastasia Luccio because that’s what people do. You don’t ever get to know for sure what someone thinks of you. What they really feel inside.”

“Everyone dies, honey,” I said, very quietly. “Everyone. There’s no ‘if.’ There’s only ‘when.’ ” I let that sink in for a moment. “When you die, do you want to feel ashamed of what you’ve done with your life? Feel ashamed of what your life meant?”

“My world would be a scarier place without you in it.”

There’s power in the night. There’s terror in the darkness. Despite all our accumulated history, learning, and experience, we remember.

“Stop learning, start dying,” Ebenezar said, in the tone of a man quoting a bedrock-firm maxim. “You’re never too old to learn.”