Legends And Lattes Quotes

Things don’t have to stay as what they started out as.

WHAT FLAMES COULD NOT CONSUME, NEVER SHALL BE EXTINGUISHED

it was like drinking the feeling of being peaceful. Being peaceful in your mind. Well, not if you have too much, then it’s something else.

She was smiling, and for the first time, the building, the city, this place… felt like hers. A place she’d still be tomorrow, the week after, next season, next year…. Home.

Because I’m headed down the hill, and you’re headed up it. I’m just glad we chanced to meet on the way.

So. I might not deserve you. And you might forgive too much. But I’m damned glad to have you.

Never trust a writer who doesn’t have too many books to read. Or a reader, for that matter,” said Zelia.

Live long enough, you realize some folks can be handed a problem and some tools, and they’ll sort it out. And I never think twice about hiring that sort of fellow.

I don't know if I can explain it, but watching you read what I give you, putting a book in your hands and seeing what happens to you once you put it back down... I can't make you understand how that gives me something I didn't know I had to have.

Shut up, you insufferable shitweasel,

Well, shit. Milky bean water. I'll be damned.

Every book is a little mirror, and sometimes you look into it and see someone else looking back.

The combined aromas of hot cinnamon, ground coffee, and sweet cardamom intoxicated her, and as she brewed and smiled and served and chatted, a deep contentment welled up. It was a glowing warmth she’d never experienced before, and she liked it. She liked it a great deal.

Calamity." His own callused paw was swallowed by hers. Her eyes widened. "Hob name," he said. "You can call me Cal." "Whichever you like best. I don't need your name to suit me.

See you in the story past the story.

You do something for years and years, and the only reason you continue is because once you stop, you won't really have anything.

I was just thinking that you don’t have to forget who you were … because that’s what brought you here.

After twenty-two years of adventuring, Viv had reached her limit of blood and mud and bullshit. An orc’s life was strength and violence and a sudden, sharp end—but she’d be damned if she’d let hers finish that way. It was time for something new.

You’re just trying to make it to the other end, and while you’re in it, there’s nothing to either side. Only the way forward. You know, the tunnel. Maybe when you find a way out, you can look around, but until then …

Then, in a rush, “I was just thinking that you don’t have to forget who you were … because that’s what brought you here.

You know, there’s a lot of people out there. Lot of noise. I love what I do, love it every day, but none of us sees more than a tiny piece of all the world, like we’re lookin’ out a little-bitty window. And I saw you through mine, and somethin’ inside me said, ‘That’s somebody you oughta know.’ Simple as that.

Ladies' stockin's and exotic bean water. Gods help us.

have to be fully rid of it. Not yet.” Then, in a rush, “I was just thinking that you don’t have to forget who you were … because that’s what brought you here.

I'm used to sleeping rough.' 'Used to ain't the same as ought to.

It’s nice work,” said Viv. “Hm.” “At least, I expect it is. I don’t know much about boats,” she admitted. “I expect that dulls the compliment a touch, then,

His eyes widened. “Well, shit. Milky bean water. I’ll be damned.” He took another, longer sip and burned his tongue.

Viv didn’t answer for a moment, but then she stared hard at him. “Things don’t have to stay as what they started out as.

I used to be an adventurer like you.

A pleasure,” said Viv. It wasn’t.

As Hemington paid, Viv handed him a roll on a piece of waxed paper and leveled a glare at him. “If you don’t eat this, it’s possible Tandri or I may have to kill you.” The young man laughed, although the laugh became strangled when Viv didn’t join in.

Viv stayed quiet. Sometimes, that was just what you had to do.

The glow in The Perch dimmed, her corner untouched by the blast of light and heat from the hearth across the room, so she asked for a lantern to read by. The kid obliged, and despite the uncomfortable chair and the ache in her leg and the backwater in which she’d been abandoned, she was absorbed. She was transported. She was elsewhere.

Accurately slinging a slab of metal and striking a target was squarely within the realm of her abilities.

for. She found it in half-lidded eyes and a slow, deliberate swallow. In cupped hands around the warmth of a mug and the lingering enjoyment of the last taste.

Failure to act was as much a decision as any other.

it was like drinking the feeling of being peaceful.

You've found a very peaceful place here. A special place. You've planted something, and now its blossoming. Very nice. A good spot to rest. My thanks to you for letting an old-timer shade under the branches of what you've grown.

People just sat around drinking it from these little ceramic cups, and I had to try it, and... it was like drinking the feeling of being peaceful. Being peaceful in your mind. Well, not if you have too much, then it's something else.

Well,” breathed Fern, surveying the interior with both brows raised. “Fuck me.” Satchel drew back from her in alarm, and his eyes seemed to widen as the flames within them burned brighter. Viv leaned down near his skull and whispered, “It’s just a figure of speech, not a request.

If there was any justice in the world, I'd never have met you, much less have even a scrap of your regard. And for a while... I thought maybe I'd cheated fate to have you near me. That I was bending the rules—forcing some impossible streak of luck—and any moment, you'd find out who I really was, and then you'd be gone. (...) But what a stupid thing to think. Unfair to you. Did I think so little of you? Did I think you couldn't see who I was, really? Was I foolish enough to believe I could make you see something other than what was there?

and went back to swabbing the grime of the bar-top into new and more interesting locations.

Besides, total ignorance never stopped me from trying anything before.

Because I’m headed down the hill, and you’re headed up it. I’m just glad we chanced to meet on the way.

And as Tandri laughed, waiting for the full story, Viv was grateful for all the wrong times that had led to this right one.

She thought about what Tandri had said just a day ago about reciprocity. Pain that was ignored, magnified on its return.

Hm. What'd you say to me at the docks? "You do it even when some might say it's wiser not to", I think? Well. Guess I'll just say... maybe be unwise a little longer.

This is what I know, what I've always known. I just want to know something else, now. To be something else.

Hers was a potent dialect of emotion, rich with meaning, comprehensible only to those intimately aware of its subtleties. Tandri didn’t have to say yes. The language was understood. And when her lips found Viv’s, no doubt could have survived.

I've got respect for people who have to get their hands dirty to get things done. That's just work. No, it takes something special to be a real asshole, and I think she and I are of the same mind.

While the dough rose, he approached with a nervous twitch of whiskers and whispered, “Latte?

Well, I could always kill him,” said Viv. Tandri just stared at her. “Joking,” muttered Viv. Was she, though?

It’s perfect,” he whispered, and his oil-drop eyes brimmed.

I learned to stay loose and level a long time ago. Things always turn out better that way, usually for everybody.

You don't have to forget who you were, because that's what brought you here.

Used to ain’t the same as ought to.' But he pressed no further, and that was that.

… The price of what I meant to do Was higher when the day was through, And when I took a different road, I almost couldn’t feel the load …

At this point, she figured that if enemies from across the sea lay siege to the fortress walls, there would still be a line at Sea-Song. And some of the besiegers would probably be in it.

I guess I haven’t had much time for … acquaintances the past few years. I’m out of practice.” Cracking an eye at her, Viv said, “You’re in the tunnel. I know how it goes.” “The tunnel?” “You’re just trying to make it to the other end, and while you’re in it, there’s nothing to either side. Only the way forward. You know, the tunnel. Maybe when you find a way out, you can look around, but until then …

Viv glanced sidelong at Laney’s mug of tea. “Say, you ever have coffee?” she asked. Laney blinked at her and looked affronted. “Why, I never have. And the way I was brought up, a lady doesn’t talk about her maladies,” she said primly. Viv barked a laugh, to the old woman’s great annoyance.

LEGENDS & LATTES ~ MENU ~ Coffee ~ exotic aroma & rich, full-bodied roast—½ bit Latte ~ a sophisticated and creamy variation—1 bit Any drink ICED ~ a refined twist—add ½ bit Cinnamon Roll ~ heavenly frosted cinnamon pastry—4 bits Thimblets ~ crunchy nut & fruit delicacies—2 bits * FINER TASTES FOR THE ~ WORKING GENT & LADY ~

Oh, and hey! What in the eight hells is coffee?

She slept hard. She slept late. And when she woke, she wanted to eat the whole world.

You do it even when someone might say it's wiser not to.

Moist books?

If you’re gonna show ‘em you got teeth, at least fix it so you can bite when you need to.

Well, this is a gods-damned surprise,” puffed Gallina. “When you said you served your Lady, I gotta say, I thought you meant, like . . . tea.

I gotta ask, is that the same mug you're always cleaning or they all get a chance?

Little twirls of smoke dotted the rooftops, like freshly extinguished candles.

She looked around. Her place. Not a temporary stop or a spot to sling her bedroll for one night. Hers.

You just said you saw me through the window. If fate intervenes, it'll be to turn you around and send you right back out.

It suddenly seemed that any faux pas or stumble here might follow and shame her forever, before she'd even properly settled down, irrational though the thought was.

Laney blinked at her and looked affronted. “Why, I never have. And the way I was brought up, a lady doesn’t talk about her maladies,” she said primly.

But he pressed no further, and that was that.

She couldn’t help wondering who had interviewed whom.

Never trust a writer who doesn’t have too many books to read. Or a reader, for that matter,

The deeper she ventured, the more stone prevailed, as though the city had calcified as it aged.

People tend not to notice what’s in front of them until it nearly knocks them down.

You’re just trying to make it to the other end, and while you’re in it, there’s nothing to either side. Only the way forward. You know, the tunnel. Maybe when you find a way out, you can look around, but until then

After twenty-two years of adventuring, Viv had reached her limit of blood and mud and bullshit. An orc's life was strength and violence and a sudden sharp end - but she'd be damned if she'd let hers finish that way. It was time for something new.

She drank more deeply, and when she wiped her mouth, she looked over at Viv. “No pearls of wisdom?” “Nope.” Tandri’s eyebrows rose. “But I will say…” Viv glanced over to regard Tandri solemnly. “Fuck those motherfuckers.” Tandri’s surprised laugh startled the birds from the cherry trees.

Having you here is connecting me to why I do this. To why I used to love it. I don’t know if I can explain it, but watching you read what I give you, putting a book in your hands and seeing what happens to you once you put it back down … I can’t make you understand how that gives me something I didn’t know I had to have.

She sat back on the flagstones and rolled the bean between her thumb and forefinger. “I told you I came across it in Azimuth, and I remember following the smell to the shop. They called it a café. People just sat around drinking it from these little ceramic cups, and I had to try it, and … it was like drinking the feeling of being peaceful. Being peaceful in your mind. Well, not if you have too much, then it’s something else.

They're kidding themselves, of course. Our sky can go from lapis to tin in the blink of an eye. Blink again and your latte's diluted. And that's just fine with me. I thrive here on the certainty that no matter how parched my glands, how anhydrous the creek beds, how withered the weeds in the lawn, it's only a matter of time before the rains come home. The rains will steal down from the Sasquatch slopes. They will rise with the geese from the marshes and sloughs. Rain will fall in sweeps, it will fall in drones, it will fall in cascades of cheap Zen jewelry. And it will rain a fever. And it will rain a sacrifice. And it will rain sorceries and saturnine eyes of the totem. Rain will primitivize the cities, slowing every wheel, animating every gutter, diffusing commercial neon into smeary blooms of esoteric calligraphy. Rain will dramatize the countryside, sewing pearls into every web, winding silk around every stump, redrawing the horizon line with a badly frayed brush dipped in tea and quicksilver. And it will rain an omen. And it will rain a trance. And it will rain a seizure. And it will rain dangers and pale eggs of the beast. Rain will pour for days unceasing. Flooding will occur. Wells will fill with drowned ants, basements with fossils. Mossy-haired lunatics will roam the dripping peninsulas. Moisture will gleam on the beak of the Raven. Ancient shamans, rained from their rest in dead tree trunks, will clack their clamshell teeth in the submerged doorways of video parlors. Rivers will swell, sloughs will ferment. Vapors will billow from the troll-infested ditches, challenging windshield wipers, disgusing intentions and golden arches. Water will stream off eaves and umbrellas. It will take on the colors of beer signs and headlamps. It will glisten on the claws of nighttime animals. And it will rain a screaming. And it will rain a rawness. And it will rain a disorder, and hair-raising hisses from the oldest snake in the world. Rain will hiss on the freeways. It will hiss around the prows of fishing boats. It will hiss in the electrical substations, on the tips of lit cigarettes, and in the trash fires of the dispossessed. Legends will wash from desecrated burial grounds, graffiti will run down alley walls. Rain will eat the old warpaths, spill the huckleberries, cause toadstools to rise like loaves. It will make poets drunk and winos sober, and polish the horns of the slugs. And it will rain a miracle. And it will rain a comfort. And it will rain a sense of salvation from the philistinic graspings of the world. Yes, I am here for the weather. And when I am lowered at last into a pit of marvelous mud, a pillow of fern and skunk cabbage beneath my skull, I want my epitaph to read, IT RAINED ON HIS PARADE, AND HE WAS GLAD!

enormous dick.

hard sausage,

Is that a lady’s stockin’?” asked Cal. Viv glanced at him. “It’s clean. I don’t wear stockings.

Any idea where I can get all this?” Viv asked Tandri. “Not immediately, no. I’m sure I can find a baker, but…” Thimble interrupted by pulling on Viv’s sleeve and pointing to himself. “I show.” “Oh. Sure. Well, no time like the present, I guess. Tandri, you’re fine with holding things down ’til we get back?” “Of course.” The rattkin shifted from foot to foot and stared longingly at the coffee machine. “Coffee first?” he pleaded.

LEGENDS & LATTES ~ MENU ~ Coffee ~ exotic aroma & rich, full-bodied roast—½ bit Latte ~ a sophisticated and creamy variation—1 bit Cinnamon Roll ~ heavenly frosted cinnamon pastry—4 bits * FINER TASTES FOR THE ~ WORKING GENT & LADY ~

Thimble appeared before they opened the doors, another list clutched in his paws. It wasn’t particularly long. “Currants, walnuts, oranges … cardamom?” Viv asked, with a puzzled expression. Thimble nodded ardently. “I don’t even know what that last one is. And the rolls are already perfect!” The rattkin wrung his hands and looked aggrieved. “Trust,” he whispered.

Honestly, Viv doubted you could eat very much of it. That bitterness would overwhelm you. But the old spice-seller was right. The kid was a genius, and she couldn’t wait to see what he had planned. Tandri thoughtfully rolled the taste around in her mouth. “Okay, I’ll ask again, because I have to know. What is this?” He leaned forward, whiskers aquiver. “Chocolate.

Viv leaned on the counter, studying their faces, and saw, at last, what she’d been too nervous to hope for. She found it in half-lidded eyes and a slow, deliberate swallow. In cupped hands around the warmth of a mug and the lingering enjoyment of the last taste. It was the echo of her own experience, and a pleasant flush of recognition washed over her.

Things don't have to stay as what they started out as

Ley lines were clearly threaded beneath the city, powerful avenues of thaumic energy. Scholars debated whether they grew where people settled or gathered folk near like warmth in winter.

What is this?” she asked. “Gin,” replied the baker, sipping her own. “Smells like winter. Tastes like summer.

She lay with the book facedown and open across her chest as the sounds of the storm crossed over the boundaries of sleep and colonized her dreams. Swords flashed on the foredeck of a frigate lashed with rain under a bruised sky. The keening of wind twinned in her slumber, and Viv voyaged through seas unknown.

Failing that, it’s always a good idea to let your enemies soften each other up first. Wait until the dust settles, and poke through the ashes.

Etwas gewöhnt zu sein ist nicht dasselbe, wie es zu müssen.

It was like drinking the feeling of being peaceful. Being peaceful in your mind. Well, not if you have too much, then it's something else.

Live long enough, you realize some folks can be handed a problem and some tools, and they’ll sort it out.

Many wonders. Perfect beauties. Great seas set aflame by sunsets. Endless underground lakes in soundless caverns. The winter light on mountain snow that has never thawed.