“Advice,” chuckled Dona Vorchenza “The years play a sort of alchemical — Scott Lynch

"“What do you have to say to that?“ “Oh, very little, to be sure, Master Kosta. It’s so hard to think, overawed as I am with the sublime genius of your plan.“ “That bears some vague resemblance to sarcasm.“ “God forfend,“ said Jean. “You wound me! Your inexpressible criminal virtues have triumphed again, as inevitably as the tides come and go. I cast myself at your feet and beg for absolution. Yours is the genius that nourishes the heart of the world.“ “And now you’re—“ “If only there was a leper handy,“ interrupted Jean, "so you could lay your hands on and magically heal him.“"

"“I say again, impossible.” “And I correct you again. Difficult. ‘Difficult’ and ‘impossible’ are cousins often mistaken for one another, with very little in common.”"

"“What happened wasn’t fair!” “Fair? You mean to claim with a straight face that you buy into that heresy, my boy?”"

"”Oh, gods,” he cried. ”Oh, gods protect me! It’s you!” “Of course it’s me,“ said Locke. “You just don’t know who the hell I am yet.“"

"The sun is up, and all that money out there won’t steal itself."

"“Why the hell are you here?” “A matter of conscience.” “Really?” said Locke. “Yours? You keep alluding to its existence. Somehow I’m not convinced.”"