Heroism doesn’t pay very well. I try to be cold-blooded and money-oriented, but I keep screwing it up.
Wizards and computers get along about as well as flamethrowers and libraries.
Hope is a force of nature. Don’t let anyone tell you different.
Fear is a part of life. It’s a warning mechanism. That’s all. It tells you when there’s danger around. Its job is to help you survive. Not cripple you into being unable to do it.
Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don’t-even-blink wench.
Age is always advancing and I’m fairly sure it’s up to no good.
If you can’t stop the bad thoughts from coming to visit, at least you can make fun of them while they’re hanging around.
Punctuality is for people with nothing better to do.
Nobody can be bad at everything. There’s no such thing as a perfect screwup.
Knowledge is the ultimate weapon. It always has been.
My hair had grown out long and shaggy – not in that sexy-young-rock-star kind of way but in that time-to-take-Rover-to-the-groomer kind of way.
I’ve had a tense couple of days. And I’ve got to tell you, burning someone’s face off sounds like a great way to relax.
There are old swordsmen and bold swordsmen. But few old, bold swordsmen.
There’s a fine line between audacity and idiocy.
Murphy hung up and I said, to the still-open line, “Hey, if you’ve got someone watching my place, could you call the cops if anyone tries to steal my Star Wars poster? It’s an original.” Then I vindictively hung up on the FBI. It made my inner child happy.
Harry Dresden. Saving the world, one act of random destruction at a time.
Many things are not as they seem: The worst things in life never are.
Ignorance is more than bliss, it’s freaking orgasmic ecstacy!
I have nightmares about hell, where all I do is add up numbers and try to have conversations with people like you.
If your opponent has you by fifty pounds, winning a fight against him is a dubious proposition, at best. If your opponent has you by eight thousand and fifty pounds, you’ve left the realm of combat and enrolled yourself in Road-kill 101. Or possibly in a Tom and Jerry cartoon.