R. A. Salvatore quotes

"Use yer heads! A barnyard goose tastes better 'an a wild one cause it don't use its muscles. The same oughta hold true for a giant's brains!"—Bruenor Battlehammer, explaining his new recipe in response to Drizzt's and Wulfgar's expressions of horror and disgust.

“Would that he slips with both and hits himself repeatedly in the face” Entreri muttered to Jarlaxle.
“So then when he’s gone, my friend Entreri can take his place” the drow quipped back.
“Shut up.”
“He is a powerful ally.”
“And a mighty enemy.”
“Watch him closely, then.”
“From behind,”

I shudder at the concept of a world tamed.

"Or animated", Friar Dudgald added. "And you know of course that to animate the corpse of a goodly man is a crime against all that is good and right. A crime against the Broken God!"
Entreri stared at Dudgald, narrowed his eyes, grinned, and spat on the floor. "Not my god", he explained.
Celedon rushed over and slugged him. He staggered, just a step, but refused to fall.
"Gareth is king by blood and by deed!" Dudgald shouted. "Anointed by Ilmater himself!"
"As every drow matron claims to be anointed by Lolth!" the stubborn prisoner cried.
"Lord Ilmater strike you dead!" Lady Christine shouted.
"Fetch your sword and strike for him," Entreri shouted right back. "Or get your sword and give me my own, and we will learn whose god is the stronger!"

"Let us say that we did battle, and I emerged the victor. By your reasoning, I would thus become the rightful King of Vaa-oh, wait. I see now. That would not serve, since I haven't the proper bloodline. What a cunning system you have there. You and all the other self-proclaimed royalty of Faerun. By your conditions, you alone are kings and queens and lords and ladies of court. You alone matter, while the peasant grovels and kneels in the mud, and since you alone are 'rightful' in the eyes of this god or that, then the peasant cannot complain. He must accept his muddy lot in life and revel in his misery, all in the knowledge that he serves the rightful king."
Gareth's jaw tightened, and he ground his teeth as he continued to stare unblinking at Entreri.
"You should have had Kane kill me, back at the castle. Break the mirror, King Gareth. You will fancy yourself prettier in that instance."

"Artemis Entreri is dead. He died in the Protector's House in Memnon, chasing ghosts."

"Will you grant the audience?"
"Of cour-" Jarlaxle started to answer, but Entreri grasped his shoulder and shifted in front.
"Tell King Gareth we do not enjoy the spectacle of an army at our doorstep unannounced. But even so, Gareth may enter my home. We have many tall towers here, as you can see. Please tell Gareth, from me, that he is most welcomed to dive headlong off of any of them."

"I assure you, paladin king, that if I had a sword in hand, I would willingly cut out your heart, here and now. If you expect me to beg look elsewhere. The fool monk can bring me to my knees, but if I am not there of my own choosing, then calling it begging would ring as hollow as does your crown, yes?" —Artemis Entreri

"If you are to be so emotionally wounded when you are bested in battle, then perhaps you would do well to hone your skills." —Artemis Entreri

"Power is always a relative concept."—the illithid Yharaskrik

"There are reasons for things that a casual observer might not understand."—Jarlaxle Baenre

One had been dismissed — and subsequently executed — for a foiled assassination attempt on a higher ranking student, a second had been killed in the practice arena, and the third died in his bunk of natural causes — for a dagger in the heart quite naturally ends one's life.

"It is undeniably beautiful, do you not agree?" Jarlaxle asked, looking back at the soaring cathedral, with its tall spires, soaring buttresses, and great, colored windows.
"The mask of a god," Entreri replied sourly.
"The mask or the face?" asked the always-surprising Jarlaxle.
Entreri stared hard at his companion, and back at the towering cathedral. "The mask," he said, "or perhaps the illusion, concocted by those who seek to elevate themselves above all others and have not the skills to do so."
Jarlaxle looked at him curiously.
"A man inferior with the blade or with his thoughts can still so elevate himself," Entreri explained curtly, "if he can impart the belief that some god or other speaks through him. It is the greatest deception in all the world, and one embraced by kings and lords, while minor lying thieves on the streets of Calimport and other cities lose their tongues for so attempting to coax the purses of others."
That struck Jarlaxle as the most poignant and revealing insight he had yet pried from the mouth of the elusive Artemis Entreri, a great clue as to who this man truly was.