That’s hard core, Gin,” Finn replied. “Very hard core. Kind of kinky too.” A grim smile tightened my lips. “That’s me. Gin Blanco. Hard core and kinky to the bitter end.

All I'm saying is that I understand if the novelty's worn off and you want to get off the carousel ride now before it kills you.

I used to murder people for money, but these days it’s more of a survival technique.

Her touch was as soft as a snowflake falling onto my skin.

I wouldn't say hate, exactly. You're kind of like fungus, Gwen. After a while, you just start growing on people.

Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!

One by one, the others all nodded their heads again, as if we were talking about having a spring picnic instead of going up against the deadliest woman in Ashland and all of her men.

Always take the most unexpected route

I’m going to untangle her deadly scheme, even if it leaves my love affair hanging by a thread.

I pulled the trigger twice, cutting off his protests, and Finn joined my lover on the floor.

Really, Gin, did you have to ruin my suit?” he said. “This was a Fiona Fine original.

Pedantry crams our heads with learned lumber and takes out brains to make room for it.

It felt like a dream.

What I do as an individual player is only important if it helps the team to win. That is the most important thing.

Better to be at the bottom of a ladder you want to climb than in the middle of some ladder you don’t, right?

But are there many honest people who will admit that it is pleasing to give pain?

Americans are now certifiably insane. They are crazy. They are suffering a mass psychosis. They have lost their own ability to discern right from wrong.

Take up a weapon and you become an instrument with as pure a purpose as the weapon itself: to find arteries and open them, limbs and sever them; to take what is alive and deliver it unto death.

Mortal man! You've wasted your time mostly with wrong and empty beliefs! And now you have started understanding that most important thing in life is existence!

The critics are generally wrong, or they're fifteen, twenty years late. It's a great shame. They miss out on a lot.