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Faux
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Thus did I bear Sir Lancelot du Lac to the Keep of Ganelon, whom I trusted like a brother. That is to say, not at all.
“Gideon the Ninth, first flower of my house.”
― Gideon the Ninth
― Gideon the Ninth
“I would not like a beer. I do not like the way it tastes to me.” “What does it taste like to you?” I asked. “Metaphor is difficult for me, so I apologize if I get this wrong,” Ran said. “All right.” “Beer tastes like ass.” “No, you got it right,” I told Ran.”
― The Shattering Peace
― The Shattering Peace
“But Gideon was experiencing one powerful emotion: being sick of everyone's shit. She unsheathed her sword. She slid her gauntlet over her hand, and tightened the wrist straps with her teeth. And she looked over her shoulder at Harrowhark, who was apparently breaking out of a blue funk to experience her own dominant emotion of "oh no, not again." Gideon silently willed her necromancer to put her knucklebones where her mouth was and, for the first time in her life - for the first real time - do what Gideon needed her to do.
And Harrowhark rose to the occasion like an evening star.”
― Gideon the Ninth
And Harrowhark rose to the occasion like an evening star.”
― Gideon the Ninth
“I COULD HAVE BECOME a mass murderer after I hacked my governor module, but then I realized I could access the combined feed of entertainment channels carried on the company satellites.”
― All Systems Red
― All Systems Red
“Look,” said Harrowhark.
No murder, sorrow, or fear could ever touch Harrow Nonagesimus. Her tired eyes were alight. A lot of her paint had peeled away or been sweated off down in the facility, and the whole left side of her jaw was just grey-tinted skin. A hint of her humanity peeked through. She had such a peculiarly pointed little face, high browed and tippy everywhere, and a slanted and viscious mouth. She said irascibly, “At the key, moron, not at me.”
The moron looked at the key, but did give her the middle finger.”
― Gideon the Ninth
No murder, sorrow, or fear could ever touch Harrow Nonagesimus. Her tired eyes were alight. A lot of her paint had peeled away or been sweated off down in the facility, and the whole left side of her jaw was just grey-tinted skin. A hint of her humanity peeked through. She had such a peculiarly pointed little face, high browed and tippy everywhere, and a slanted and viscious mouth. She said irascibly, “At the key, moron, not at me.”
The moron looked at the key, but did give her the middle finger.”
― Gideon the Ninth
Faux’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Faux’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
1,390 books
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33 friends
12,550 books
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31 friends
495 books
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1,612 books
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