Chris ( librocubicularist ) King

“A spark skittered along the God’s breastplate as the tip of the warsword struck against the hard steel and for just a fraction of a second it stopped there, metal against unyielding metal – but then the surface of the armour gave way, bending then parting, and a screeching sound filled the air. Tiny fragments of steel went flying in all directions and the blade slid with the ease of a lover’s tongue into the breech of the God’s armour.”
― Sebastien de Castell, Saint's Blood

“Ove glares out of the window. The poser is jogging. Not that Ove is provoked by jogging. Not at all. Ove couldn’t give a damn about people jogging. What he can’t understand is why they have to make such a big thing of it. With those smug smiles on their faces, as if they were out there curing pulmonary emphysema. Either they walk fast or they run slowly, that’s what joggers do. It’s a forty-year-old man’s way of telling the world that he can’t do anything right. Is it really necessary to dress up as a fourteen-year-old Romanian gymnast in order to be able to do it? Or the Olympic tobogganing team? Just because one shuffles aimlessly around the block for three quarters of an hour?”
― Fredrik Backman, A Man Called Ove

“Patronising fobbing bastard,”
― Glenda Larke, The Lascar's Dagger

“The first rule of hurricane coverage is that every broadcast must begin with palm trees bending in the wind.”
― Carl Hiaasen