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"The memories of our glories fade, and rot away into half-arsed anecdotes, thin and unconvincing as some other bastard's lies. The failures, the disappointments, the regrets, they stay raw as the moments they happened."
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"Are there memories left that are safe from the clutches of phony anniversaries?"
"Ryan is my bridge to the past, to memories that lose some of their sting when he recounts them."
"I never saw my grandfather because he had died before I was born, but I have good memories of my grandmother and of how she could play the piano at the old house."
"The memories stayed with him for so long, and stayed vivid. And it didn't matter to me that he'd already repeated that before. I could hear it forever."
"A cigar is as good as memories that you have when you smoked it."
"And I've been walking 'round with memories way too long."
"My memories are inside me - they're not things or a place - I can take them anywhere."
"Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again."
Explore more quotes by Joe Abercrombie
"Memories sharp enough to cut himself on - the smells, the sounds, the feel of the air on his skin, the desperate hope and mad anger."
"Fear has made them sloppy. The world teeters at a precipe. All scared to take a step in case they put a foot into empty air. The instinct of self-preservation. It can destroy a man's efficiency."
"Some men you stick to right off. But it's those that take time to stick that stick longest."
"Empathy? What's that? Glokta winced as he rubbed at his aching leg. 'It's a sad fact, but pain only makes you sorry for yourself."
"The world is all change, my friend. We all would like to go back, but the past is done. We must look forwards. We must change ourselves, however painful it may be, or be left behind."
"He blamed every fucker available excepting, of course, the one who was actually to blame, the one sitting in his saddle and getting colder, hungrier, and more lost with every unpleasant moment. 'Shit!' he roared at nothing."
"Vengeance is a way of clinging to what we have lost. A wedge in the Last Door, and through the crack we can still glimpse the faces of the dead. We strain towards it with all our being, break every rule to have it, but when we clutch it, there is nothing there. Only grief."
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