“Knives,’ muttered Calder, ‘and threats, and bribes, and war?’Bayaz’ eyes shone with the lamplight. ‘Yes?’‘What kind of a fucking wizard are you?’‘The kind you obey.”

“Well, he’s scraping up what there is. Reckon we’ll need every ready hand when it comes to a battle. Yours too, maybe.’‘Oh, you’ll have to hold me back!’ Calder slapped the hilt of his sword. ‘Can’t wait to get started!’‘You ever even drawn the fucking thing?’ sneered Tenways, stretching his neck out to spit again.‘Just the once. I had to trim your daughter’s hairy cunt before I could get at it.”

“One should learn the lessons of history. The mistakes of the past need only be made once. Unless there are no other choices. ~ Bayaz”

“I must admit that you fascinate me, Superior. Your life would seem to be entirely unbearable. And yet you fight so very, very hard to stay alive. With every weapon and stratagem. You simply refuse to die.”“I am ready to die.” Glokta returned his gaze, like for like. “But I refuse to lose.” ~Bayaz and Glokta”

“You can never have too many knives, his father had told him. Unless they're pointed at you, and by people who don't like you much. ”

“The smell of it. The feel of it." He rubbed one hand up and down the stained sheath of his sword, making a faint swishing sound. "War is honest. There's no lying to it. You don't have to say sorry here. Don't have to hide. You cannot. If you die? So what? You die among friends. Among worthy foes. You die looking the Great Leveller in the eye. If you live? Well, lad that's living, isn't it? A man isn't truly alive until he's facing death." Whirrun stamped his foot into the sod. "I love war!”

“Honour, eh? What the hell is that anyway? Every man thinks it's something different. You can't drink it. You can't fuck it. The more of it you have the less good it does you, and if you've got none at all you don't miss it.”