Joe Abercrombie Quotes

Wish you were with him?'
Volfier frowned sideways. 'I wish we'd won at Ospria, then the choice wouldn't have come up. But then I wish my wife hadn't fucked the baker while I was away in the Union on campaign three years ago. Wishing don't change nothing.'
Shivers grinned, and tapped at his metal eye with a fingernail. 'That there is a fact.

A dark-skinned young woman sat on the roof of the aftcastle, one leg swinging as she watched the new slaves shuffle across.

You ever have the feeling you were in the wrong place? That if you could just get over the next hill, cross the next river, look down into the next valley, it'd all ... fit. Be right."
"All my life, more of less"
"All your life spent getting ready for the next thing. I climbed a lot of hills now. I crossed a lot of rivers. Crossed the sea even, left everything I knew and came to Styria. But there I was, waiting for me at the docks when I got off the boat, same man, same life. Next valley ain't no different from this one. No better anyway. Reckon I've learned ... just to stick in the place I'm at. Just to be the man I am.

Remember, though, that you are the king's observer, not the king's champion.

What? A family?" Ninefingers frowned, rubbing grimly at the stump of his middle finger. "I did have one. And now I've got another. You don't pick your family, you take what you'er given and you make the best of it." He pointed at
Ferro, then at Quai. "You see her, and him, and you?" He slapped his hand down on Jezal's shoulder. "That's my family now, and I don't pal on losing a brother today, you understand?

I don't do sober any more. Sober hurts.

Does a king let his friends die for him?" Yarvi glanced guiltily across at Shadikshirram's sword, and remembered the feeling, punching, punching, the red knife in his red hand, and shivered under his stolen cloak. "Does a king stab women in the back?" The tears were still wet on Nothing's wasted face. "A good one sacrifices everything to win, and stabs whom he must however he can. The great warrior is the one who still breathes when the crows feast. The great king is the one who watches the carcasses of his enemies burn. Let Father Peace spill tears over the methods. Mother War smiles upon results." "That's what my uncle would have said." "A wise man, then, and a worthy enemy. Perhaps you will stab him in the back and we can watch him burn together.

Men are brittle, I reckon. They don't bend into new shapes. They get broken into them. Crushed into them.

And I suppose it's a woman's place to simper on the sidelines and cheer as idiots rack up the casualties?"

"We all find ourselves cheering for idiots from time to time, that's a fact of life. There really is no point heaping scorn on my subordinates. If a person is worthy of contempt, they'll bury themselves soon enough without help.

So you love war. I used to think you were a decent man. But I see now I was mistaken. You're a hero.

The one thing she hated worse than being fussed over was being ignored.

Well, well, well. The mighty Uthman-ul-Dosht comes with mercy, and offers peace. These are strange times we live in, eh, Tulkis? Have the Gurkish learned to love their enemies? Or simply fear them?'
'One need not love one's enemy, or even fear him, to desire peace. One need only love oneself.'
'Is that so?'
'It is. I lost two sons in the wars between our peoples. One at Ulrioch in the last war. He was a priest, and burned in the temple there. The other died not long ago, at the siege of Dagoska. He led the charge when the first breach was made.'
Glokta frowned and stretched out his neck. A hail of flatbow bolts. Tiny figures, falling in the rubble. 'That was a brave charge.'
'War is harshest on the brave.

But you know what they say - old milk turns sour but old scores just get sweeter.

Body found floating by the docks...

If you judge your thoughts worth hearing, pronounce them proudly, push them to every corner of the chamber, fill the hall with your hopes and desires and make every listener share them! If you are ashamed of your thoughts, better to leave a silence.

Whatever have you been feeding her?"
"Fire and whetstones," said Yarvi, smiling.

A man lost in the desert must take such water as he is offered, no matter who it comes from.

And here it is. That horrible, beautiful, stretched out moment between stubbing your toe and feeling the hurt. How long do I have before the pain comes? How bad will it be when it does?

Thousands of men are converging on a forgotten ring of stones, on a worthless hill, in an unimportant valley, and they've brought a lot of sharpened metal with them

I can see her on your arm like an empty dress, a kind of echo at a higher pitch.

No matter how great and glorious the making, time will unmake it. No matter how strong the word, strong the thought, strong the law, all must return to chaos.

Perhaps we'll have some answers, at least, before the end. I always dreamed of dying well-informed.

But you love to play the good man, don't you? Do you know what's worse than a villain? A villain who thinks he's a hero. A man like that, there's nothing he won't do and he'll always find himself an excuse.

When do I rest, then?" "In the songs of great heroes, do you hear often of resting?

And then Ardee herself was so much more complicated in person than she had been as a silent memory. Nine parts witty, clever, fearless, attractive. One part a mean and destructive drunk. Every moment with her was a lottery, but perhaps it was that sense of danger that struck the sparks when they touched, made his skin tingle and his mouth go dry . . .

Enemies are the price of success.

Pain is the best schoolmaster, as you will soon discover.

Trust is like glass. Lovely, but only a fool rests lots of weight on it.

I was too busy wallowing in pain and bitterness. Too busy being tragic.

I'm quite the humorist, for a woman who hires killers.

He'd come to Styria looking for honest work. But when the purse runs empty, dishonest work has to do.

The best lessons one teaches oneself.

Way I see it, we've got two choices. Try and use these bastards, or kill 'em all. Hard words have never won a battle yet, but they've lost a few. You mean to kill a man, telling him so don't help.

Shivers heaved out a sigh. "Just trying to make tomorrow that bit better than today is all. I'm one of those ... you've got a word for it, don't you?"
"Idiots?"
He looked sideways at her. "It was a different one I had in mind."
"Optimists."
"That's the one. I'm an optimist."
"How's it working out for you?"
"Not great, but I keep hoping."
"That's optimists. You bastards never learn.

Men can have all manner of deeply held beliefs about the world in general that they find most inconvenient when called upon to apply to their own lives. Few people let morality get in the way of expediency. Or even convenience. A man who truly believes in a thing beyond the point where it costs him is a rare and dangerous thing.

That was the age of great men, doing what was right.

You cannot expect all the heroes to survive a good song

Guilt is a luxury reserved for those still breathing and with no unbearable pain, cold or hunger demanding all their fickle attention. Long as guilt's your biggest problem, girl..." Rikke saw the faint gleam of Isern's teeth in the gathering darkness. "Things can't be that bad".

Say one thing for Logen Ninefingers, say he's a lover.

The lowly squabble over trifles. The great wage secret wars for power and wealth, and they call it government. Wars of words, and tricks, and guile, but no less bloody for that.

Armour... is part of a state of mind... in which you admit the possibility... of being hit.

What are you going to do?' whispered Temple.
'There was a time I'd have gone charging over there without a thought for the costs and got bloody.' Lamb lifted the glass and looked at it for a moment. 'But my father always said patience is the king of virtues. A man has to be realistic. Has to be.'
'So what are you going to do?'
'Wait. Think. Prepare.' Lamb swallowed the last measure and bared his teeth at the glass. 'Then get bloody.

One should learn the lessons of history. The mistakes of the past need only be made once. Unless there are no other choices. ~ Bayaz

Secrets, power. It's all a metaphor.

Jezal swallowed and hunched his shoulders, watching the chunks of long dead wood file slowly past like rows of tombstones. "I don't like this," he muttered under his breath.
"You think I do?" Bayaz frowned grimly over at him. "You think any of us do? Men must sometimes do what they do not like if they are to be remembered. It is through struggle, not ease, that fame and honor are won. It is through conflict, not peace, that wealth and power are gained.

Probably been sure he'd got the right god, the right king, the right cause. Everyone finds a way to make their side the right one, after all.

What is t that I did to deserve this? And what is it that Luthar did? Is he not just as I was? Arrogant, vain, and selfish as hell? Is he a better man? Then why has life punished me so harshly, and rewarded him so richly?
But Glokta already knew the answer. The same reason that innocent Sepp dan Teufel languishes in Angland with his fingers shortened. The same reason that loyal General Vissbruck died in Dagoska, while treacherous Magister Eider was let live. The same reason that Tulkis, the Gurkish Ambassador, was butchered in front of a howling crowd for a crime he did not commit.
He pressed his tongue into one of his few remaining teeth. Life is not fair.

made myself guilty of mass murder so I could be proclaimed innocent of incompetence.

So we wait?" asked Severard.
"We wait, and we look to our defences. That and we try to find some money. Do you have any cash, Severard?"
"I did have some. I gave it to a girl, down in the slums."
"Ah. Shame."
"Not really, she fucks like a madman. I'd thoroughly recommend her, if you're interested."
Glokta winced as his knee clicked. "What a thoroughly heartwarming tale, Severard, I never had you down for a romantic. I'd sing a ballad if I wasn't so short of funds."
"I could ask around. How much are we talking about?"
"Oh, not much. Say, half a million marks?"
One of the Practical's eyebrows went up sharply. He reached into his pocket, dug around for a moment, pulled his hand out and opened it. A few copper coins shone in his palm.
"Twelve bits," he said. "Twelve bits is all I can raise.

"We" title="Joe Abercrombie Quotes: So we wait?" asked Severard.
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You can weep over each other's hidden nobility when we're safe!

Rejoice in what you have. Power, wealth, fame, they are ghosts! They are like the breeze, impossible to hold. There is no grand destination. Every path ends at the Last Door. Revel in the sparks one person strikes from another." She huddled into her cloak of rags. "They are the only light in the darkness of time.

Walk in God's footsteps, Ferro Maljinn." "Huh. They have no God here." "Say rather that they have many." "Many?" "Had you not noticed? Here, each man worships himself.

Once your hands get bloody it ain't so easy to get 'em clean.

I'd hate to be lost. But prepare yourself for the possibility of disappointment. Life is full of them. And the manner of its endings is often the greatest one of all.

Something dug into the Bloody-Nine's back, but there was no pain. It was a sign. A message in a secret tongue, that only he could understand. It told him where the next dead man was standing.

The fool strikes. The wise man smiles, and watches, and learns. Then strikes.

When was it exactly that I became... this? By small degrees, I suppose. One act presses hard upon another, on a path we have no choice but to follow, and each time there are reasons. We do what we must, we do what we are told, we do what is easiest. What else can we do but solve one sordid problem at a time? Then one day we look up and fine we are... this.

Conscience and the cock-rot are hardly equivalent,' snapped Lorsen.
'Indeed,' said Cosca, significantly. 'The cock-rot is rarely fatal.

No!" barked Hoff again. "There will be no duel here! There is no issue to decide! Angland is a part of the Union, by ancient law!"

White-Eye Hansul chuckled softly. "Ancient law? Angland is part of the North. Two hundred years ago there were Northmen there, living free. You wanted iron, so you crossed the sea, and slaughtered them and stole their land! It must be, then, that most ancient of laws: that the strong take what they wish from the weak?" His eyes narrowed. "We have that law also!

Few indeed are those who get a choice. We do as we are told. We stand or fall beside those who were born near to us, who look as we do, who speak the same words, and all the while we know as little of the reasons why as does the dust we return to.

The lamplight gleamed on the Magus' white grin. People like to watch the pretty puppets, Superior. Even a glimpse of the puppeteer can be most upsetting for them. Why, they might even suddenly notice the strings around their own wrists

But I'd rather not add to my regrets. The gods know I got a queue of the bastards.

And so he came at last to the high seat of Guslav the fifth, High King of the Union. His head was slumped sideways, squashed down under the sparkling crown. His pasty pale fingers twitched on his crimson silk mantle like white slugs. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling gently, accompanied by gentle splutterings as spittle issued from his slack lips and ran down his chin, joining the sweat on his bulging jowls and helping it to turn his high collar dark with wet. Truly, Jezal was in the presence of greatness. "Your

A few glasses of wine can be the difference between finding a man a hilarious companion or an insufferable moron.

He could do anything and it would be right, for he had made himself a willing puppet of God's purpose and in so doing freed himself. He alone free, surrounded by slaves.

Why the mad hair, girl?"
"Because damn you," growled Thorn, "that's why.

"Because" title="Joe Abercrombie Quotes: Why the mad hair, girl?"
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All an arsehole knows about is shit. ~ Dogman

And Yarvi realized that Death does not bow to each person who passes her, does not sweep out her arm respectfully to show the way, speaks no profound words, unlocks no bolts. The key upon her chest is never needed, for the Last Door stands always open. She herds the dead through impatiently, needles of rank or fame or quality. She has an ever-lengthening queue to get through. A blind procession, inexhaustible.

Where do we find allies?"
Father Yarvi smiled. "Among our enemies, where else?

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What's your name?'

She planted one elbow on the stretch of counter Zuri had wiped so she could lean closer and draw out both syllables. 'Savine.'

'That's a lovely name.'

'Oh, if you enjoy the tip, you'll go mad for the whole thing.'

'That so?' he purred at her. 'How does it go?'

'Savine… dan…' And she leaned even closer to deliver the punchline. 'Glokta.'

If a name had been a knife and she had cut his throat with hers, the blood could not have drained more quickly from his face. He gave a strangled cough, took a step back and nearly fell over one of his own barrels.

One cannot grow without pain. One cannot improve without it. Suffering drives us to achieve great things.

A man doesn't put on a mask unless he's got some dark work in mind.

You are a gentleman, sir,' muttered Cosca. 'I am a murderer.' 'I see no reason why a man cannot be both . . .

I think the further away you get from completing a book, the more responses you see to it from readers, the more your own tastes and opinions shift and the more you start to see things you could have written differently in the detail, or done differently on the broader scale of plot and character.

She shrugged. "I fell. I'm a clumsy fool." "I know how you feel. I'm such a fool I knocked half my teeth out and hacked my leg to useless pulp. Look at me now, a cripple. It's amazing where a little foolishness can take you, if it goes unchecked.

If you wanted to see my cock that badly, you could just have asked.'
'No doubt a thing o' haunting beauty but i came for something else.

I used to love to hear stories of that man's exploits! One of my heroes, when I was young. Riding round the enemy, harassing his lines of communication, falling on the baggage train and whatnot.
The Prince's riding crop rode around, harassed, and fell on imaginary baggage in the air before him.

Justice can have what's left when I'm done.

What's his story?' asked Yarvi.
'I don't know his name. Nothing, we all call him. When I was first brought to the South Wind he pulled an oar. One night, off the coast of Gettland, he tried to escape. Somehow he got free of his chain and stole a knife. He killed three guards and cut another's knee so he never walked again, and he gave our captain that scar before she and Trigg put a stop to him.'
Yarvi blinked at the shambling scrubber. 'All that with a knife?'
'And not a large one.

Have a smile for breakfast, you'll be shitting joy by lunch.

The Great Leveller, Dogman whispered to himself, since he was in a thoughtful frame of mind. That's what the hillmen call him. Death, that is. He levels all differences. Named Men and nobodies, south or north. He catches everyone in the end, and he treats each man the same.

Friends? In my experience, a friend is merely an acquaintance who has yet to betray you. Is that what you are, Harker?

You treat folk the way you'd want to be treated, and you can't go far wrong. That's what my father told me. Forgot that advice, for a long time, and I done things I can never make up for. Still, it doesn't hurt to try. My experience? You get what you give, in the end.

I got into reading a lot of noir and a lot of thrillers as well, and I really admired the plotting about those and the way that they can surprise you. And obviously to surprise people and to have twists in the tale, you have to plan quite carefully.

Pick your enemies more carefully then your friends, they will be with you longer.

The general with the smallest numbers should remain always on the offensive.

You can't become attached to things, not out here in the wild.

You can never have too many knives, his father had told him. Unless they're pointed at you, and by people who don't like you much.

Misjudgment is as much a part of life as unhappiness. It is nice to hold the power and make choices for everyone. But the risk of making any choice is always that you might make the wrong one. We must make our choices nonetheless. Fear of being a grown-up is a poor reason to remain a child.

Don't deceive yourself. Everyone is guilty of something, and even the innocent can be a threat. Perhaps it takes small crimes to prevent bigger ones, Colonel West, but it's up to bigger men than us to decide.

Nothing was easy with people, but she could always count on herself to make things more difficult than they had to be.

It was what you gave out that made a man, not what you got back.

Different men have different ways, Logen had told him once, and you have to have fear to have courage.

Conscience can be painful but so can the cock-rot. A grown-up should suffer his afflictions privately and not allow them to become an inconvenience for friends and colleagues.' - The Magnificent Nicomo Cosca

Whirrun ignored 'em. 'Then, when I've got two cut,' and he dropped a pale slab of cheese on one slice then slapped the other on top like he was catching a fly, 'I trap the cheese between then, and there you have it!'
'Bread and cheese.' Yon weighed the half-loaf in one hand and the cheese in the other. 'Just the same as I've got.' And he bit off the cheese and tossed it to Scorry.
Whirrun sighed. 'Have none of you no vision?' He held up his masterpiece to such light as there was, which was almost none. 'This is no more bread and cheese than a fine axe is wood and iron, or a live person is meat and har.'
'What is it, then?' asked Drfod, rocking back from his wet wood and tossing the flint aside in disgust.
'A whole new thing. A forging of the humble part of bread and cheese into a greater whole. I call it … a cheese-trap.' Whirrun took a dainty nibble from one corner. 'Oh, yes, my friends. This tastes like … progress…

It is not how you die, but how you lived, that counts.

We don't get much time, and time feeling sorry for yourself is time wasted.

These are dangerous times alright, and yet danger and opportunity often walk hand in hand.

Bury it with me. Time was I thought it was a blessing and a curse. But it's only a curse, and I ain't about to curse some other poor bastard with it. Time was I thought it was reward and punishment both. But this is the only reward for men like us.' And Whirrun nodded down towards the bloody spear-shaft. 'This or … just living long enough to become nothing worth talking of. Put it in the mud, Craw.' And he winced as he heaved the grip into Craw's limp hand and pressed his dirty fingers around it.
'I will.'
'Least I won't have to carry it no more. You see how bloody heavy it is?'
'Every sword's a weight to carry. Men don't see that when they pick 'em up. But they get heavier with time.

Courage can come fro many places, and be made of many things, and yesterday's coward can become tomorrow's hero in an instant if the time is right.