Don't know about my knives, but my gun's made of pain.

I try to keep in mind” I recite dryly as I run the front sight of my pistol over his face, “that my life is only as significant, as I am to the lives of others.”
He’s sobbing and won’t look up from the floor so I lean close to his ear and ask softly, “Would you say that I’m significant to your life?

If you stopped tellin' people it's all sorted out after they're dead, they might try sorting it all out while they're alive.

When I grow up, I'd like to be dangerous.

Principled hate is a hell of a lot stronger than "Boy, I wish you hadn't mummified me and thrown me into the lake" hate.

He'd already put a shirt on each leg and had stacked every shoe I owned into a precarious pyramid. The room looked like a small, overly curious tornado had torn it apart.

"You have got to be kidding me," I said. "Maybe I should give you to Shamus.