546 Quotes by Mark Lawrence

It never pays to walk blindly. Especially not in your own castle where familiarity hides so much - even when we have the eyes to see.

I warn you, Captain, God crafted these creatures for three things only. Passing wind from the rear end, passing wind from the front end, and spitting. They spit stomach acid so tell your men, and don't let anyone venture into the hold with a naked flame or you may find yourself the master of a marvelous collection of floating splinters. Also, we'll all drown.

Does she have some demonic sewing kit in there? Will the thread assault us? The thimbles hurl themselves upon me? Bobbins-""She said-""We'll die. I know.

There's is something about a fight that makes you forget your troubles. Mainly it's that all your troubles are suddenly very small in the face of new problems swinging your way with sharp edges on them

I will break the cycle.” I drew my sword and laid it across my knees. “You know how to break the cycle of hatred?” I asked. “Love,” said Gomst, all quiet-like. “The way to break the cycle is to kill every single one of the bastards that fucked you over,” I said. “Every last one of them. Kill them all. Kill their mothers, kill their brothers, kill their children, kill their dog.

I always knew you'd try this Viking shit on me.

He killed the king’s champion, the Captain of the Guard, Sir Galen. That’s who Sareth’s sister was in mourning for.” “You’re going to tell me it wasn’t by poisoning his mead?” “Single combat.” “We’re leaving.” I called it from the corridor.

Tuttugu buried his fingers in the ginger bush of his beard and scratched furiously, muttering something. “What?” I asked. “Brothel rash,” he said. “Whore pox?” That at least made me smile. “Ha!” “Snorri said—” “I ain’t laying on hands down there! I’m a prince of Red March, for God’s sake! Not some travelling apothecary-cum-faith-healer!

Some hangovers are so horrific that it seems the whole world rocks and sways around you, the very walls creaking with the motion. Others are relatively mild and it just turns out that in your drunkenness a collection of Vikings have thrown you onto a heap of coiled ropes in their longship and set to sea. “Oh, you bastards.” I cracked open an eye to see a broad sail flapping overhead and gulls wheeling far above me beneath a mackerel sky.