I suspect this is all gonna end in screaming and drowning

They kissed for the sort of endless moment that only exists between lovers whose lips are still new territory to one another.

Throwing blondes at Locke Lamora was not unlike throwing lettuce at sharks.

In the glass burrow beneath their feet, the flames began to rise. First the flames, and then the screams

I think it’s fairly common for writers to be afflicted with two simultaneous yet contradictory delusions, the burning certainty that we’re unique geniuses, and the constant fear that we’re witless frauds who are speeding toward epic failure.

The only constant in the soul of man is inconstancy; anything and everything else can pass out of fashion-even something as utilitarian as a hill stuffed full of corpses.

My name's Jean Tannen, and I'm the ambush.