Gardens of the Moon (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #1)

by Steven Erikson

When you’re young and smelling of pigshit and convinced there ain’t a weapon in all the damn world that’s going to hurt you, all stories do is make you want to be part of them.

Never be too easy with the knowledge you possess. Words are like coin—it pays to hoard.” “Until you die on a bed of gold,” Paran said.

I wonder what god tossed you two together on that parapet—I would do service to acknowledge its sense of humor.

“Still,” she added, “I’m sure they were good men, the ones you lost.” “Good at dying,” he said.