Jim Butcher

No one just starts giggling and wearing black and signs up to become a villainous monster. How the hell do you think it happens? It happens to people. Just people. They make questionable choices, for what might be very good reasons. They make choice after choice, and none of them is slaughtering roomfuls of saints, or murdering hundreds of baby seals, or rubber-room irrational. But it adds up. And then one day they look around and realized that they're so far over the line that they can't remember where it was.

That__ the problem with you nearly immortal types,_ I said. __ou couldn__ spot a pop culture reference if it skittered up and implanted an embryo down your esophagus.

Bring it, Darth Bathrobe!

Most of the bad guys in the real world don't know that they are bad guys. You don't get a flashing warning sign that you're about to damn yourself. It sneaks up on you when you aren't looking.

The wacky thing about those bad guys is that you can't count on them to be obvious. They forget to wax their mustaches and goatees, leave their horns at home, send their black hats to the dry cleaner's. They're funny like that.

Evil isn__ the real threat to the world. Stupid is just as destructive as Evil, maybe more so, and it__ a hell of a lot more common. What we really need is a crusade against Stupid. That might actually make a difference.

You__e playing the creepy vibe a little hard,_ I said. __ight as well go for broke, put on a black top hat and pipe in some organ music.

I'm going to use them to track him down and thwart him." "Thwart?" Sarissa asked."Thwart." I said. "To prevent someone from accomplishing something by means of visiting gratuitous violence upon his smarmy person.""I'm pretty sure that isn't the definition," Sarissa said."It is today.

You have a visitor, my lord." I frowned, "What?" "That is why I came in here. You have a visitor waiting for you." I stood up, exasperated. "Why didn't you say so?" Lacuna looked confused. "I did. Just now. You were there." She frowned thoughtfully. "Perhaps you have brain damage." "It would not shock me in the least," I said."Would you like me to cut open your skull and check, my lord?" she asked. Someone that short should not be that disturbing.

I poke at my skull with a finger. It didn't feel soft or anything. I didn't feel insane. But if you'd really lost it, would you have enough left to know? Crazy people never thought they were crazy. "I've always talked to things," I said. "And to myself." "Good point," myself agreed with me. "Unless that means you've been nuts all along." "I don't need wiseass remarks," I told myself severely. "There's work to do. So shut up.

They'd paid some madman who thought he was a decorator a lot of money to make the place look hip and unique. Maybe it's my lack of fashion sense talking, but I thought they should have held out for one of these gorillas who has learned to paint. The results would have been of similar quality, and they could have paid in fresh produce.

I had about as much chance to do that as I did of backpacking my car to the top of Mount Rushmore.

Paranoid? Probably. But just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that there isn't an invisible demon about to eat your face.

The demon trapped in the summoning circle screamed, slamming its crablike pincers against the unseen barrier, hurling its chitinous shoulders from side to side in an effort to escape the confinement. It couldn't. I kept my will on the circle, kept the demon from bursting free."Satisfied, Chauncy?" I asked it.The demon straightened its hideous form and said, in a perfect Oxford accent, "Quite. You understand, I must observe the formalities.

Seedy wasn't a fair description for the place, because seeds imply eventual regrowth and renewal.

Thomas has the kind of whiter-than-white boyish grin that makes women's panties spontaneously evaporate.

Being here? With you? I've met my subconscious, and he's not that sick.

...as nervous as a bird in a coal mine.