There are only three people in life you can never fool--pawnbrokers, whores, and your mother. Since your mother's dead, I've taken her place. Hence, I'm bullshit-proof.

You can knock down kingdoms on a whim. What you need is someone to make sure you don't get hit by a carriage when you cross the street.

I don't have to beat you. I don't have to beat you, motherfucker. I just have to keep you here... until Jean shows up.

What kind of knife is this?” Locke held a rounded buttering utensil up for Chains’ inspection. “It’s all wrong. You couldn’t kill anyone with this.

Crooked Warden, I will fear no darkness for the night is yours," muttered Locke, pointing the first two fingers of his left hand into the darkness. The Dagger of the Thirteenth, a thief's gesture against evil. "Your night is my cloak, my shield, my escape from those who hunt to feed the noose. I will fear no evil, for you have made the night my friend." "Bless the Benefactor," said Jean, squeezing Locke's left forearm. "Peace and profit to his children.

If reassurances could dull pain, nobody would ever go to the trouble of pressing grapes.

You can't help being young, but it's past time that you stopped being stupid.