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

Stand aside, and try not to catch fire if I shed sparks of genius.

I'll wager I would have screwed things up regardless. But. . .can you imagine those poor bastards grappling their prey, leaping over the rails, swords in hand, screaming, 'Your cats! Give us all your gods-damned cats!

I can’t name the poison that’s killing your friend. But the one that’s killing you is called hope.

My disinterest in your bullshit is so tangible you could make bricks out of it

What is government but theft by consent?

You're ten pints of crazy in a one-pint glass.