Synners

Fez gave her a squeeze. “You’re a genius, Sam-I-Am.”

She squirmed away from him uncomfortably. “It just makes sense, is all.”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes to be a genius.”

Ninety percent of life was being there, and the rest was being there on time.

Nothing stays the same, Gina, nothing works forever. If I don’t like it, that’s too bad. If you don’t like it, that’s still too bad.

The Beater has still been young enough to feel immortal, at least on his better days. It was all, Wow, if we don’t slow down, we’re gonna die before we get old, except somehow it hadn’t happened that way. So they’d all assumed it never would, not dying, not getting old—hell, not even growing up.

Keep your best whiskey in a bottle marked ‘mouthwash.’

“‘Truth is cheap, but information costs.’ I can’t remember who said that.”

“Vince What’s-His-Name,” said Sam. “Died in a terrorist raid or something. I thought you said all information should be free.”

“It should. It isn’t. Knowledge is power. But power corrupts. Which means the Age of Fast Information is an extremely corrupt age in which to live.”

“Aren’t they all?” Sam asked him.