James Anderson Quotes

Do I look like the flower type of guy?

Rich people always had someone to call who could arrange something that the average guy couldn't get done, no matter how right or wrong. The only call the poor man could make was to Jesus. If Jesus didn't answer, Smith and Wesson always did.

Maybe it was being orphaned and alone all my life, but I always steeled for the worst outcome I could envision. That way I could shrug and be almost happy with anything that fell short of the worst. It was a peculiar life skill and one I had gotten damn good at.

A look passed between the two men. I felt it graze the side of my head. It was that kind of look.

What didn't kill you didn't make you stronger, or even wiser, it waited patiently for another chance.

Rob Green needed to get the long barrier out, didn't he?

Like every other house-renting, paycheck-to-paycheck, heel dragging working American, it wouldn't matter if I stepped in it by accident or was pushed, or simply whiffed it as I walked by. With the powers in play, guilt or innocence had nothing to do with anything.

Imagination is one of the few things a man can count on if he's got the reality to feed it.

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Out in the desert what doesn't kill you just pisses you off and will probably kill you the next time.

Why don't people with money and power realize that when they screw around with the little guy when they don't have to - especially when it's a little guy like me with not a damn thing to lose - sometimes the little guy is just going to get pissed off and stubborn up?

Sometimes the smallest things are so damn unforgivable. Maybe because they aren't small - they only seem that way to someone else. You never know what someone holds scared until it's too late.

If someone you love asks you to give up something you love, don't do it.

Declined. I went inside to pay cash. This had happened before, but not often. There was something about that word that sucked the self-respect out of your soul. This time it sucked out all my hope as well.

We thought we'd seen it all. The real horror of war is always waiting for you at home. It's waiting, I tell you. We were so damned happy when we got back. We'd made it. We survived. But it's always waiting. Waiting. You let down your guard. And there it is. You can't ever let up. Give up.

A Jewish Native American half-breed orphan playing bagpipes wasn't the sort of impression I ever wanted to make

Like a carpenter with two broken legs at the bottom of a beautiful staircase. Maybe I can't climb the stairs, ma'am, but at least let me admire the workmanship.

This was the desert, everything all at once, whether it was needed or not. What survived had learned to save, live carefully, and keep a low profile, even appear to be dead for long periods. Perseverance and patience.

When someone says we need to talk, what he or she usually means is you will listen. Any conversation that takes place will be accidental.

Men were often far different in their roles as fathers than they were as suitors, the memories of which kept them, out of necessity, both vigilant and violent, and even in tender moments, to their daughters.