Wayne: You wanna know why I really came to find you? Waxilliam: Why? Wayne: I thought of you happy in a comfy bed, resting and relaxing, spending the rest of your life sipping tea and reading papers while people bring you food and maids rub your toes...
I need something, Wax. A place to look. You always did the thinking.” “Yes, having a brain helps with that, surprisingly.
It’s what happens when you shoot someone,” Wayne pointed out. “At least, usually someone has the good sense to get dead when you go to all the trouble to shoot them.
Wayne's a little attached to that hat," Waxillium said. "He thinks it's lucky." Wayne: "It is lucky. I ain't never died while wearing that hat." Marasi frowned. "I ... I'm not sure I know how to respond." Wax: "That's a common reaction to Wayne.
I suggested she write down her thoughts" He said, "and, well, my daughter is a very thorough woman." "I can see that" Waxillium said. "I suggest that you never ask her to pass the milk" Wayne added under his breath, so only Waxillium could hear "She ...
The mark of a great man is one who knows when to set aside the important things in order to accomplish the vital ones.
So,” Marasi said, “you traded a dead man’s scarf for another dead man’s gun. But…the gun itself belonged to someone dead, so by the same logic—” “Don’t try,” Waxillium said. “Logic doesn’t work on Wayne.” “I bought a ward ...
People today...it seems they are good, or sometimes evil, mostly by inertia, not by choice.
Oh, Wax has always been solemn, but when he's at his best, there's a smirk underneath.
And don't waste time worshipping Harmony. Doing good the worship.
Why do they call it research if I've only done it this one time?
Actually, [Wax] said, we came here because we needed someplace safe to think for a few hours." Ranette: "Your mansion isn't safe?" Wax: "My butler failed to poison me, then tried to shoot me, then set off an explosive in my study" Ranette: "Huh.... Y...
A soft knock at the door interrupted him in the middle of spreading the articles out on his desk. He looked up to see Tillaume in the doorway holding a tray of tea and a basket, the handle over his arm. “Tea, my lord?” “That would be wonderful....
The rest of the time, I don't do so much thinkin'. 'Cuz if I did, I'd go running back to where things is simple. You see?
