Richard House Quotes

Telling stories to make himself into something that he isn't. We all do it. We all tell stories to make ourselves look better.

There are Sutlers everywhere.

He calls these projects gophers, as in, go-for-the-money (don't-deliver-the-project).

So why are you here?" Watts asked Santo.
"Because, Paul, is it Paul? I'm here to put the f in freedom.

What is awful is that there were always reasons to do one thing and not another, but these reasons disappear. You don't remember them. They just go, and you're left with what you did or didn't do, and this idea that you didn't do enough. The truth isn't always so easy. You can't think yourself back into that place that made everything how it was.

The secret to disappearing is to stay where you are.

Because what matters, what counts, isn't how well you are loved, but how able you are to give love.

A human has seven litres of blood. This they had taught him in the army. Seven litres, which, with an arterial cut will vent a fountain two or three metres, and take three to four minutes to bleed out.

It is doubtful that you could find a full-blooded Cossack who would voluntarily take part in any such activity, as the girl, so to speak. The receiver. I cannot think of one example myself, not one case which involves a full-blooded Cossack. Historically, this is a weakness of the Greeks, the Italians, and of course your own people, who are particularly fond of this vice.

...WHAT DID YOU DO TODAY
...that counts?
...that carries meaning?
...that made the day worthwhile?
...what will you do tomorrow?

Everything in English sounded funny.

I definitely saw 'The Kill,' when I started it, as an entertainment.

She read the last chapter of her book because she didn't want to start something that would end badly.

So what about the cats?"
"What about them?"
"The cats he killed. He killed all those cats. Dumped them in the tank."
"So he didn't like cats."
"With a slingshot."
"They were strays. Nobody missed them."
"But you don't kill cats. That's not normal."
Rino shrugged. "Cats are cats.

Wickedness is not as interesting as you might hope.

When I first started writing, I wrote a book called 'Bruiser,' and it was pretty much set in Chicago.

Cats aren't as friendly as they appear: fur, teeth, instinct, selfishness and cunning. Essentially they're just big rats.

You are the stories you tell, whatever their basis in fact or experience. It's who you are.

The older they became the less time they spent together, and the less time they spent together the less dissatisfaction they felt toward each other.

The worst thing you can do to someone, the very worst thing, is to keep them hoping.

It wasn't my intention ever to leave Chicago, that's for sure.

You think those cats care? You think other animals watch each other go at it and it does something for them?"
"Like cat-porn.

This man threatened the volunteer then returned twenty minutes later to beat him up. At a charity bonfire. In Wilford. It's not the Middle East," she said, "it's Wilford, Nottingham. I don't want to be among these people. They complain about a charity bonfire, and right on their doorstep there are children as young as eleven selling drugs along the river.

A tongue in a bag. Teeth. A room drenched in blood.

What you have to understand, he says, is the mentality of the Iraqi versus the mentality of the average Westerner.