you have a very, ahhh, uncompromising view of a certain exercise of personal initiative that we prefer to frame in more artfully indeterminate terms. Not that I expect that to mean anything to you.

There are only three people in life you can never fool—pawnbrokers, whores, and your mother.

We Don’t believe in hard work when a false face and a good line of bullshit can do so much more.

Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile And cry ‘Content’ to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.

I have to pay extra because your ass and your brains switched places at birth?

there’s no freedom quite like the freedom of being constantly underestimated

Nature never deceives us; it is always we who deceive ourselves.

I mean you no insult, truly, but let me frame it in these terms; you have been Capa now for barely one week. I have only begun to form my opinion of you. You remain a stranger, sir; if you rule a year from now, and you maintain stability among the Right People, and preserve the Secret Peace, well then—perhaps some consideration could be given to what you propose.

To say that he was an intemperate, murderous lunatic would wound the feelings of most intemperate, murderous lunatics.

Drink makes me see funny; the gods made me impulsive.

Just as I respect your abilities, I respect your loyalty to one another. I respect it enough to use it, for good and for ill

Only gods-damned fools die for lines drawn on maps

Why had it cost them so many loved ones? Why did some stupid motherfucker always have to imagine that you could cross a Camorri with impunity?

My keen grasp of subtle nuance tells me you might be frustrated

Sounds like an eminently corruptible process

When the sky’s falling, I take shelter under bullshit

What followed was a pandemonium of finger-pointing and hard words in which the intelligence, birth city, artistic capacity, work habits, skin color, dress sense, and personal honor of every participant were insulted at least once.

Life boils down to standing in line to get shit dropped on your head. Everyone’s got a place in the queue, you can’t get out of it, and just when you start to congratulate yourself on surviving your dose of shit, you discover that the line is actually circular.
I practice selective deafness to hurtful remarks, young woman.

though he suspected Boulidazi would rate the prospect of a duel with him as a physical threat on par with a difficult bowel movement.