Grave Peril (The Dresden Files, #3)

by Jim Butcher

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Hellhounds.” “Harry,” Michael said sternly. “You know I hate it when you swear.” “You’re right. Sorry. Holy shit,” I breathed, “heckhounds.

One thing about intimidation is that people can always think up something worse that you could do to them than you can, if you leave their imagination some room to play.

All power, no matter how terrible or benign, whether its wielder is aware of it or not, has a purpose.

fair. There should be some kind of rule against needing to kill anything more than once.

The curve of her smile promised things that were probably illegal, and bad for you, and would carry warnings from the Surgeon General, but that you’d still want to do over and over again.

I’d hate to find out that the universe really wasn’t conspiring against me. It would jerk the rug out from under my persecution complex.

Some words have a power that has nothing to do with supernatural forces. They resound in the heart and mind, they live long after the sounds of them have died away, they echo in the heart and the soul. They have power, and that power is very real.

What goes around comes around. And sometimes you get what’s coming around.” He paused for a moment, frowning faintly, pursing his lips. “And sometimes you are what’s coming around.