Quotes by Kevin Hearne

Yer a good lad, Atticus, mowin’ me lawn and killin’ what Brits come around.

When he said to give him the sword, I don’t think he meant for you to stick it in his guts.

Look, I dont know what you are, but youre more than a geologist, if you are one at all. Ive met lots of geologists on different projects like this, and theyre all tiny sunburned men with fetishes for geodes. They wear floppy hats and carry baggies for soil samples around with them. ... And geologists dont make rocks disappear like you did the other night. They keep them and build little shrines to them.

Peace be with you, I said, and as I turned to resume my journey with Coyote, I added under my breath, and asskicking be with me.

People used to say obvious things ironically or as a form of understatement, but in the last few decades they seem to say it with a sense of discovery, and it worries me.

The gods damn you, look what youve done! If I want to grow this back, Ill have to endure the most terrifying sex imaginable! Gaahhhhhhh!

I don’t remember the whole thing, because it was very long, but Atticus recited it for me once, and there was a line that went like this: “Cry ham hock and let slip the hogs of war!” I know you might not agree, but for me that was the best thing Shakespeare ever wrote.You mean, “Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war” from Julius Caesar?No, I don’t think that’s it. There was ham in there; I’m sure he was talking about ham. They were going to battle hunger.I think you might have been hungry when you heard it, Oberon.

I’ve never run this far before, he said at one point. Or this fast for so long. It’s better than sticking your head out a car window, that’s for sure.My theory is that Oberon might be a master of Tao. He always sees what we filter out. The wind and the grass and something in the sky, sun or moon, shining on our backs as we run: They are gifts that humans toss away like socks on Christmas morning, because we see them every day and don’t think of them as gifts anymore. But new socks are always better than old socks. And the wind and grass and sky, I think, are better seen with new eyes than jaded ones. I hope my eyes will never grow old.

I dispelled my invisibility for a few seconds in his full view, a finger resting provocatively on my lower lip, giving him a come-hither look under a streetlight. His jaw and the bottle of Żubrówka dropped at the same time. It shattered, drawing his eyes to the sidewalk, and I took the opportunity afforded by his distraction to disappear again.That was mean, Oberon said, watching the man look wildly around for me and pawing at his eyes as if to clear them.Why? I asked. I’ve done him no harm.Yes, you have. You will haunt him for the rest of his life. I know from experience.You’re haunted by someone flashing you on a street corner?No. It was a dog park. Atticus and I were just arriving and she was leaving.Oh, here we go.She was so fit and her coat was tightly curled and she had a perfect pouf on the end of her tail like a tennis ball. I saw her for maybe five seconds, until she hopped into a Honda and her human drove her away. And now I can’t see a Honda without seeing her.But that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Kind of romantic? A vision of perfection you can treasure forever, unspoiled by reality.Well, I don’t know. In reality I’d like to try spoiling her, if she was in the mood.Look, Oberon, that man is lonely. He’s too skinny and sweaty, and I’m willing to bet you five cows that he’s socially awkward or he wouldn’t be staggering drunk at this hour. But now, for the rest of his life, he will remember the na**d woman on the street who looked at him with desire. When people treat him like something untouchable, he will have that memory to comfort him.Or obsess over. What if he starts wandering the streets every night looking for you?Then he’s misunderstood the nature of beauty. It doesn’t stay, except in our minds.Oh! I think I see. That’s true, Clever Girl! Sausage never stays, because I eat it, but it’s always beautiful in my mind.

The wind and the grass and something in the sky, sun, or moon, shining on our backs as we run: They are gifts that humans toss away like socks on Christmas morning, because we see them every day and dont think of them as gifts anymore. But new socks are always better than old socks. And the wind and grass and sky, I think, are better seen with new eyes than jaded ones. I hope my eyes will never grow old.

Turns out that once you kill a god, people want to talk to you. Paranormal insurance salesmen with special godslayer term life policies. Charlatans with godproof armor and extraplanar safe houses for rent. But most notably, other gods...

But in doing so---moving forward...---hes still dealing with the past. Its always strung out behind us, innit, attached to our arses like a roll of toilet paper we trail out of the bathroom, pointing the way to the giant shite we just took. It doesnt matter if we flushed it down; Everyone still knows what we did there. So its fine to say its all done and you have no connection with the past, that youre a new person every second, but silly in my view to pretend that person isnt made of the old one.

The color palette is confined to that of a Gustave Dore engraving, greys and blacks, and subtle shadings of these rendered in harrowing crosshatches and highlighted with sudden glaring areas of nothingness, like splotches of vitiligo sent to haunt the dead with memories of what real light did to the eyes.

Saying good-bye properly afforded me a measure of peace. It was a binding of a different sort, absent of the earths power, but still hard proof that there is magic yet in the world.

Oberon’s been kidnapped along with one of the werewolves, and that’s why we’re all so upset. We’ll talk more tomorrow, and I promise to answer all your questions if I survive the night,” I said. The widow’s eyebrows raised. “Ye’ve got all these nasty pooches to run around with and ye still might die?” “I’m going to go fight with a god, some demons, and a coven of witches who all want to kill me,” I said, “so it’s a distinct possibility.” “Are y’goin’ t’kill ’em back?” “I’d certainly like to.” “Attaboy,” the widow chuckled. “Off y’go, then. Kill every last one o’ the bastards and call me in the mornin’.

No matter how old I get, I keep running into people who are smarter, nobler, and kinder. I really ought to start listening to them and telling my pride to shut up. I had gods tell me not to go to Asgard. I had witches tell me not to go to Flagstaff. You told me this plan wouldnt work. But I barreled ahead anyway for my own reasons. I still have plenty of growing to do.

I jumped up and down and swore violently in seventeen languages.

You dont even know if she really likes you, Oberon said as we exited and I unlocked my bike. She could be doing her customer service routine and stringing you along in hopes of a big tip the next time you come in. With dogs you just go up and smell their asses and you know where you stand, its so much easier. Why cant humans do that?

No. See, when you throw up youre vomiting, but when you throw down youre starting a fight, as in throwing down the gauntlet.Ohhhh, he said. I thought you were speaking literally.I do beg your pardon. Lets literally throw up, but figuratively throw down.

Not everyone can be bribed with meat, Oberon. They Cant? Oh! you mean theyre vegetarian.No, they eat meat. It just doesnt sway their decision making process. Well that... thats just wrong, Atticus!Are they Monsters? Its like they have no moral center!