I'm a fantasy writer, called a fantasy writer. But there's very little, apart from one or two basic concepts in 'I Shall Wear Midnight,' which are in fact fantasy. You have sticks that fly, but they're practical broomsticks, with a bloody great strap...
Ratso Rizzo: You know, in my own place, my name ain't Ratso. I mean, it just so happens that in my own place my name is Enrico Salvatore Rizzo. Joe Buck: Well, I can't say all that. Ratso Rizzo: Rico, then.
Cass: You were gonna ask me for money? Who the hell do you think you're dealing with, some old slut on 42nd Street? In case you didn't happen to notice it, ya big Texas longhorn bull, I'm one helluva gorgeous chick!
Jimmy: The second way out, I need you guy's help, and that's under. Billy Hayes: You mean tunnel? Are you serious? Max: This is Shagmahr prison, not Stalag 17. Jimmy: Well that's where you're wrong fuckface, 'cause it's already built!
Paul: Nostalgia is denial - denial of the painful present... the name for this denial is golden age thinking - the erroneous notion that a different time period is better than the one one's living in - it's a flaw in the romantic imagination of those...
Jimmy Serrano: This is it. Tonight is the fucking night. I am tired of all these screw-ups. As soon as I get the discs from Walsh, you guys drop Walsh and then you drop the Duke. You understand? I get the discs, you drop them.
[first lines] [Jack trying to pick door lock. He drops one of his picks. When he bends over to pick it up, a gun shot is fired through the door, right where his head had been previously] Jack Walsh: Shit!
I drew the last image ever of Opus at midnight while Puccini was playing and I got rather stupid. Thirty years. A bit like saying goodbye to a child - which is ironic because I was never, never sentimental about him as many of his fans were.
Basic SEAL training is six months of long, torturous runs in the soft sand, midnight swims in the cold water off San Diego, obstacles courses, unending calisthenics, days without sleep and always being cold, wet and miserable.
The Crown Prince of Adarlan stared him down. "And consider where your true loyalties lie." Once, Chaol might have argued. Once, he might have protested that his loyalty to the crown was his greatest asset. But that blind loyalty and obedience had sta...
All we know, Midnight. The best of all we know. For Chestry Valley and its master we loved. For Nana. For Sugarloaf and Brimstone Farm. For Pop and Mom and Tom. For the foals to come. For yesterday and for all tomorrows, we dance the best we know. Fo...
Soon a whole guild of low-priced shrine keepers around Europe named their own pope - Boldface the Relatively Shameless, Discount Pope of Prague. The price war was on [...] The Retail Pope would offer cheesy bacon toppings on the Host with communion a...
She was beginning to have that feeling that comes after midnight, of one's thoughts opening out, flowering, groping out loud for some new discovery, some new truth that is really as old as all the hundreds of years girls have been confiding to one an...
Only here, long after midnight, while everyone else was sleeping, when nothing was expected of him, could Schwartz convince himself that he was working hard enough. These hours felt stolen, added to his life. The voice fell quiet.
There have been times, lately, when I dearly wished that I could change the past. Well, I can’t, but I can change the present, so that when it becomes the past it will turn out to be a past worth having.
At such times the universe gets a little closer to us. They are strange times, times of beginnings and endings. Dangerous and powerful. And we feel it even if we don't know what it is. These times are not necessarily good, and not necessarily bad. In...
Our friendship is made of bendy straws, long midnight letters, my so-called life marathons, sleepless sleepovers, diner milk shakes, apron strings, a belief in beauty, sucking helium, and the most trust I’ve ever felt for anyone, including myself.
And then another letter had come from Christopher, so devastating that Amelia wondered how mere scratches of ink on paper could rip someone's soul to shreds. She had wondered how she could feel so much pain and still survive.
Despite what you think you know, most people don't want to fight, especially when evenly matched. … That's why you see those young men doing the dance of "don't hold me back" while desperately hoping someone likes them enough to hold them back.
In movies, we are accustomed to seeing handsome actors. It's so commonplace on the screen, large or small, that we barely note it as extraordinary. But in life, rarely do we encounter an onslaught of beauty, entire a hive of handsomeness, find oursel...
I'm going to put the moves on her,' he says gravely. 'Things might get weird.' He says it like a commando setting up a midnight raid. Like: Sure, this is going to be extraordinarily dangerous, but don't worry. I've done it before.
