Zoltar Quotes

According to Francis, Narkis and Zoltar have been plotting against their dad.” “He did name his boys Narkis and Zoltar.” “Good point. I’d have shot him too.

Honor is kind of what you get when you weaponize manners,

Troll Wars were like Batman movies: both were repeated at regular intervals, featured expensive hardware, and were broadly predictable.

If we didn't execute bankers and rogue traders found guilty of financial mischief, it might give them the clear signal that it's actually okay, and then where would we be?

He had found that all snails have the capacity to do over one hundred miles per hour and find their way to a given location with pinpoint accuracy, but didn't because they were horribly lazy and couldn't be bothered.

Are all our dates going to be like that?" said Perkins. "I hope not", I replied with a smile, "but it was quite fun, wasn't it? I mean, it's not like we were killed or eaten or anything, right?" "If your idea of a good date is not being killed and eaten, you'll never be disappointed.

It's somewhat bizarre to learn that many of you think that other humans are somehow different enough to be hated and killed when in reality you're all tiresomely similar in outlook, needs and motivation, and differ only by peculiar habits, generally shaped by geographical circumstances.

Said by Colin the dragon: "It's somewhat bizarre to learn that many of you (humans)think that other humans are somehow different enough to be hated and killed, when in reality you're all all tiresomely similiar in outlook, needs and motivation, and differ only by peculiar habits, generally shaped by geographical circumstance.

Death cannot be avoided forever, but it can be postponed - in that respect it's very like the washing up.

Although helpful, a disembodied hand on the Bugatti’s steering wheel was a bit creepy, especially because this one was hairy and had No More Pies tattooed on the back.

Got the rocket-propelled liquorice launcher handy?

I think you got Zoltared!

I’d been an idiot to think that this was anything but a quest. Searches were nice and soft and cuddly and no one need be killed. A quest always demanded the death of a trusted colleague and one or more difficult dilemmas. I’d been in denial. I’d been a fool.

Honour is kind of what you get when you weaponise manners, but if you’re brought up in a system where honour is valued more than life itself it makes a lot more sense. Some. A bit. Anyway: they attacked me as they were honour bound to do, and I defended myself as I was bound to do, but killed them in self-defence. I think it was what Gareth had planned. He had dishonoured himself by kidnapping Perkins in the first place and causing our tribes to fall out, then been the cause of me dishonouring myself, which then brought dishonour upon himself. By attacking me, he allowed me to restore my lost honour by killing him, and, odd as it might seem, his honour as well. He died with honour, and I thank and respect him for it. We didn’t leave them to the slugs at all, and instead buried them with tribal honours, which is why we were kind of delayed. The ground was hard and we had to ride for miles to find a shovel.

How about this,' I said. 'We modify our plans with regard to ongoing facts as they become known to us, then remodify them as the situation unfolds. 'You mean make it all up as we go along?' asked Perkins. 'Right.

What do I do?" Asked the princess. "You keep your head down." She looked at me petulantly. "Like hell I will. If we're going to die, I'm going down fighting, even if I'm terrible with a weapon." "Fair enough," I said, handing her a cutlass. She swished it around. "Pointy end toward the bad guy, right?" "Right.

What's a Somnubuvorus?' 'It looks like a cross between a boabab and a turnip, and about the size of a telephone box. It's actually not a plant at all but a fungus that releases puffs of hallucinogenic spores into the breeze. Anyone who inhales them suddenly becomes convinced that being near the Somnubuvorus will enlighten and enrich them with hard-hitting and devastatingly relevant social and political commentary. Then, of course, you are soon overcome with a sense of listlessness and torpidity, and fall fast asleep'. 'It sounds like what would happen if you weapoinised French cinema

Tale a rain check on that date?' I said, turning to Perkins. 'In the Magic Industry,it's kind of "Spell First, Fun Second".' 'I kind of figured that,' he replied, 'so why don't we make this assignment the date?' Intimate candlelit dinners for two are wildly overrated. I could even bring some sandwiches and a Thermos of hot chocolate.' 'Okat,' I said, touching his hand, 'you're in. A sort of romantic uncandlelit "recapturing a dangerously savage beast for two" sort of date - but no dressing up and we split the cost.' 'Game on. I'll go and make some sandwiches and a Thermos.' And with another chuckle, he left.

There was something she wasn’t telling me, but I had to trust her—only a fool ignores a local guide. “Okay,

Shall I kill him?" said the princess after a pause. "My father insisted that I be trained in the art of silent assassination just in case.

All of us are somewhat clairvoyant; any future you can dream up, no matter how bizarre, retains the faint possibility of coming true. Kevin's skill was of dreaming up future events that were not just possible, but likely. He once said, "Being a clairvoyant is ten percent guesswork and ninety percent probability mathematics.

Once we were on the high Plynlimon pass, we stopped to stretch our legs, change drivers, and make a short devotion to the shrine dedicated to the once-popular but now little-known Saint Aosbczkcs, the Patron Saint of Fading Relevance.

Ralph started to scream in pain. Not that 'stubbed your toe' sort of pain, but more a kind of 'detached kneecap' kind of pain, only with seven simultaneous childbirths, neuralgia, and a tooth abscess all mixed in as well, for good luck. The sort you hope you never get to experience.

Do you think that horrible servant girl will get my body pregnant?' she asked as we trotted down the steps. 'I've heard about you girl orphans having no morals and having babies for fun and selling them to buy bicycles and fashion accessories and onions and stuff.

walls of the Young Adult Room were painted purple and yellow. There were swirly zebra-print rugs on the floor and a lumpy cluster of beanbag chairs. A couple of sofas were designed to look like Scrabble trays, with letter-square pillows. Akimi nudged Kyle in the ribs. “Check it out.” In the far corner stood a carnival ticket booth with a mechanical dummy seated inside. A “Fun & Games” banner hung off the booth’s striped roof. The dummy inside the glass booth? He looked like Mr. Lemoncello. He wasn’t wearing a turban, but the Mr. Lemoncello mannequin reminded Kyle of the Zoltar Speaks fortuneteller booths he’d seen in video game arcades. “That’s not really him, is it?” said Akimi, who was right behind Kyle. “No. It’s a mechanical doll.” The frozen automaton was dressed in a black top hat and a bright red ringmaster jacket. Since the booth had the “Fun & Games” banner, Kyle figured you might have to talk to the dummy to get a game. “Um, hello,” he said. “We’d like to play a board game.” Bells rang, whistles whistled, and chaser lights blinked.

It was Spam, but everyone was too tired to complain.