Rici > Rici's Quotes

“Be wary of men with something to prove.”
― Taylor Jenkins Reid, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

“How did you get a demon in your chicken?'

'The usual way. Couldn't put it in the rooster. That's how you get basilisks.”
― T. Kingfisher, Nettle & Bone

“... er ist entschieden eine garstige Kanaille.”
― Alexandre Dumas der Ältere

“ART IS MADE BY ORDINARY PEOPLE. Creatures having only virtues can hardly be imagined making art. It’s difficult to picture the Virgin Mary painting landscapes. Or Batman throwing pots. The flawless creature wouldn’t need to make art.”
― David Bayles, Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking

“This too will pass, of course. In fact, artistically speaking, it has passed. The unfolding over time of a great idea is like the growth of a fractal crystal, allowing details and refinements to multiply endlessly – but only in ever-decreasing scale. Eventually (perhaps by the early 1960's) those who stepped forward to carry the West Coast Landscape Photography banner were not producing art, so much as re-producing the history of art. Separated two or three generations from the forces that spawned the vision they championed, they were left making images of experiences they never quite had. If you find yourself caught in similar circumstances, we modestly offer this bit of cowboy wisdom: When your horse dies, get off.”
― David Bayles, Art and Fear

“When your only tool is a hammer, so the saying goes, everything looks like a nail.”
― David Bayles, Art and Fear

“Es war einer jener schönen und seltenen Tage, da sich England erinnert, daß es eine Sonne gibt.”
― Alexandre Dumas (der Ältere)

“He was cold, standing in a wood, talking to a big black bird who was currently brunching on Bambi.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods: Tenth Anniversary

“The raven flew up and away. Shadow looked at the corpse of the baby deer. He decided that if he were a real woodsman, he would slice off a steak and grill it over a wood fire. Instead, he sat on a fallen tree and ate a Snickers bar and knew that he really wasn’t a real woodsman.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods

“Hey," said Shadow. "Huginn or Muninn, or whoever you are."
The bird turned, head tipped, suspiciously, on one side, and it stared at him with bright eyes.
"Say 'Nevermore,'" said Shadow.
"Fuck you," said the raven.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods

“Any chance of persuading my Healer to add a bit of food to that?" Jaenelle's head popped out of the kitchen doorway. "How does a large slice of fresh bread soaked in beef broth sound?" About as edible as the table leg. "Do I have any choices?"
"No."
"Sounds wonderful.”
― Anne Bishop, The Black Jewels Trilogy: Daughter of the Blood, Heir to the Shadows, Queen of the Darkness

“Mrs. Beale made this. I can't cook." Lucifer took another mouthful and shrugged. "Cooking isn't that difficult." Then he looked up and wondered if a grown man had ever been beaten to death with a soup spoon.”
― Anne Bishop, The Black Jewels Trilogy: Daughter of the Blood, Heir to the Shadows, Queen of the Darkness

“It's none of my business, but I am curious," Saetan said. "Why are you standing out here displaying your assets?”
― Anne Bishop, The Black Jewels Trilogy: Daughter of the Blood, Heir to the Shadows, Queen of the Darkness

“Sometimes ritual quiets the racket. Try it. Any number of things may work for you – an altar, for instance, or votive candles, sage smudges, small animal sacrifices, especially now that the Supreme Court has legalised them. (I cut out the headline the day this news came out and taped it above the kitty's water dish.)”
― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

“Think of those times when you've read prose or poetry that is presented in such a way that you have a fleeting sense of being startled by beauty or insight, by a glimpse into someone's soul. All of a sudden everything seems to fit together or at least to have some meaning for a moment. This is our goal as writers, I think; to help others have this sense of – please forgive me – wonder, of seeing things anew, things that can catch us off guard, that break in on our small, bordered worlds.”
― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

“The labor went very much the same way that Kania's had, which seemed strange to Marra. Then again, peasants and princesses all shit the same and have their courses the same, so I suppose it's no surprise that babies all come out the same way, too. Having thus accidentally anticipated a few centuries' worth of revolutionary political thought, Marra got down to the business of boiling water and making tea. It went more quickly than Kania's, at least, but it was still a long, tense, tedious stretch. Marra nodded off more than once and sometimes came to with the lamp in her hand and the Sister Apothecary crouching between the mother's legs, wondering if she was really awake or if she was having a strange sort of dream. Dawn had passed and it was most of the way to morning when the baby emerged into the world, looked around and burst into tears. "You get used to it," the Sister told the infant, and handed the child to Marra, who stared at it with intense horror. It was bloody and wrinkly and reddish gray and looked like the sort of thing you would drive back to hell with holy water. "Um," said Marra. "Is it ... Is ..." The mother was panting and could hardly breathe. "It cried. It's alive right?"
"Oh yes," said Marra hurriedly. "Very alive." She stared at it, trying to find something else to say. "Has arms and legs. And, uh ... a head ..."
"That's good," said the mother, and began giggling with high, hysterical laughter. "Oh, that's good. You want them to have heads." "Lady of Grackles have mercy," muttered the Sister Apothecary, but as she was saying this directly into the birth canal, no one but Marra heard.”
― T. Kingfisher, Nettle & Bone

“It was hard to be frightened of the unknown when the unknown kept chickens.”
― T. Kingfisher, Nettle & Bone

“Are you all right?" asked Fenris.

"Horrible puppet," she said, "demon chicken, fairy godmother."

"And it's a fool's errand and we're all going to die," said Fenris. He patted her shoulder. "Still, I have to admit I didn't see the chicken or the puppet coming.”
― T. Kingfisher, Nettle & Bone

“Everyone have their souls still? Shadows still attached? Then let's go before that changes.”
― T. Kingfisher, Nettle & Bone

“You’re bringing the hen?” “She’s got a demon in her,” said the dust-wife. “It’d be rude to leave her for the neighbors to deal with.”
― T. Kingfisher, Nettle & Bone

“One of the hens decided that a human standing still was an extreme threat to chickens everywhere and ran away, cackling in alarm”
― T. Kingfisher, Nettle & Bone

“If reassurances could dull pain, nobody would ever go to the trouble of pressing grapes.”
― Scott Lynch, The Lies of Locke Lamora

“So, this is winning," he said.
"It is," replied Jean.
"It can go fuck itself," said Locke.”
― Scott Lynch, The Lies of Locke Lamora

“By the fifth day of the quarantine there were no more screams and no more attempted canal crossings, and so Catchfire evaded the namesake fate that had befallen it so many times before in years of pestilence.”
― Scott Lynch, The Lies of Locke Lamora

“Locke was pulled out of his vivid thicket of dreams by a number of things: the rising heat of the day, the pressure of three cups of wine in his bowels, the moans of the hung-over men around him and the sharp prick of claws from the heavy little creature sleeping on the back of his neck. Struck by a sudden foggy memory of Scholar Treganne's spider, he gasped in horror and rolled over, clutching at whatever was clinging to him. He blinked several times to clear the veil of slumber from his eyes and found himself struggling not with a spider but with a kitten, narrow-faced and black-furred. "The hell?" Locke muttered. "Mew," the kitten retorted, locking gazes with him. It had the expression common to all kittens, that of a tyrant in the becoming. I was comfortable and you dared to move, those jade eyes said. For that you must die. When it became apparent to the cat that it's two or three pounds of mass were insufficient to break Locke's neck with one mighty snap, it put it's paws on his shoulders and began sharing it's drool-covered nose with his lips. He recoiled.”
― Scott Lynch, The Lies of Locke Lamora / Red Seas Under Red Skies

“He'd been wrong, there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and it was a flamethrower.”
― Terry Pratchett, Mort

“There should be a word for that brief period just after waking when the mind is full of warm pink nothing. You lie there entirely empty of thought, except for a growing suspicion that heading towards you, like a sockful of damp sand in a nocturnal alleyway, are all the recollections you'd really rather do without, and which amount to the fact that the only mitigating factor in your horrible future is the certainty that it will be quite short. ”
― Terry Pratchett, Mort

“History isn't like that. History unravels gently, like an old sweater. It has been patched and darned many times, reknitted to suit different people, shoved in a box under the sink of censorship to be cut up for the dusters of propaganda, yet it always - eventually - manages to spring back into its old familar shape. History has a habit of changing the people who think they are changing it. History always has a few tricks up its frayed sleeve. It's been around a long time.”
― Terry Pratchett, Mort

“I USHERED SOULS INTO THE NEXT WORLD. I WAS THE GRAVE OF ALL HOPE. I WAS THE ULTIMATE REALITY. I WAS THE ASSASSIN AGAINST WHOM NO LOCK WOULD HOLD.
"Yes, point taken, but do you have any particular skills?”
― Terry Pratchett, Mort

“Tʜᴇʀᴇ's ɴᴏ ᴊᴜsᴛɪᴄᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ.

—Death”
― Terry Pratchett, Mort