You couldn't be that good and not know it, somewhere in your secret heart, however much you'd been abused into affecting public humility.

There was no limit to what one man might do, if he gave all, and held back nothing.

And this was your friend?" Cordelia raised her eyebrows. "Seems to me the only difference between your friends and your enemies is how long the stand around chatting before they shoot you.

On the sixth day God saw He couldn't do it all, so He created ENGINEERS

This wasn't prayer anyway, it was just argument with the gods. Prayer, he suspected as he hoisted himself up and turned for the door, was putting one foot in front of the other. Moving all the same.

The real unforgivable acts are committed by calm men in beautiful green silk rooms, who deal death wholesale, by the shipload, without lust, without anger, or desire, or any redeeming emotion to excuse them but cold fear of some pretended future. But the crimes they hope to prevent in that future are imaginary. The ones they commit in the present - they are real.

I do think, half of what we call madness is just some poor slob dealing with pain by a strategy that annoys the people around him.