Best 79 quotes in «thief quotes» category

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    Soup’s here,” Judd finally said after we watched each other for a few minutes. As I sipped the broth, Judd pretended to ignore me. I knew he wasn’t really watching television. His face was too perfectly stoic like he was working hard to make himself seem cold. “Do you want the rest?” I asked. Judd frowned at me. “If I wanted soup, I’d have ordered myself some. I’m not a dog begging for scraps.” Scowling at his ridiculous anger, I shrugged. “I don’t want to waste the rest. Can we put it in the mini fridge and I’ll eat it in the morning?” Judd’s frown eased. “Fuck it. I’ll eat it.” “No, it’s mine,” I said, standing up. “I offered and you got grumpy. Now, you can’t have it.” “I’ll just eat it after you go to sleep.” “I respect your honesty,” I said, setting the bowl into the little fridge next to the expensive treats. “It’s a rare quality in a thief.” Judd grinned.

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    So you mean to say that you’ve become an accomplished thief.” “I mean to say that stealing is sometimes a moral imperative.

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    Take off your hat," the King said to the Hatter. "It isn't mine," said the Hatter. "Stolen!" the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly made a memorandum of the fact. "I keep them to sell," the Hatter added as an explanation; "I've none of my own. I'm a hatter.

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    Talents are seeds of greatness. With big dreams well dispensed in form of achievements, you can pick money from people’s pockets and they will never get the guts to call you a thief.

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    The greatest thieves are not caught. Not because it’s not known that they are thieves but because you cannot accuse them of robbery and live. These thieves are praised as national heroes and liberators or as successful entrepreneurs.

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    The last few years had taught her that, bizarrely, there might be more to life than money, heists, and adrenaline. A crazy idea, no kidding, and she wasn't entirely convinced yet, but maybe, just maybe, she could be something more than a thief?

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    There is nothing morally wrong with buying stolen goods, unless you know that they were stolen.

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    There sat a massive oval vessel, over three feet long and two feet wide, as big as the copper basin his mother had used for boiling her washing. Only this was not a washing copper. It was made of silver, adorned with mermaids, dolphins, tritons, and a pair of stampeding horses dragging a naked Neptune from the foamy waves. It was Sir Bartholomew's wine cooler- the most valuable item ever made in the Blanchard workshop; the largest piece of silver seen in the city of London for many a month; the prize that Harry Drake had come to steal.

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    The seriousness of throwing over hell whilst still clinging to the Atonement is obvious. If there is no punishment for sin there can be no self-forgiveness for it. If Christ paid our score, and if there is no hell and therefore no chance of our getting into trouble by forgetting the obligation, then we can be as wicked as we like with impunity inside the secular law, even from self-reproach, which becomes mere ingratitude to the Savior. On the other hand, if Christ did not pay our score, it still stands against us; and such debts make us extremely uncomfortable. The drive of evolution, which we call conscience and honor, seizes on such slips, and shames us to the dust for being so low in the scale as to be capable of them. The 'saved' thief experiences an ecstatic happiness which can never come to the honest atheist: he is tempted to steal again to repeat the glorious sensation. But if the atheist steals he has no such happiness. He is a thief and knows that he is a thief. Nothing can rub that off him. He may try to sooth his shame by some sort of restitution or equivalent act of benevolence; but that does not alter the fact that he did steal; and his conscience will not be easy until he has conquered his will to steal and changed himself into an honest man... Now though the state of the believers in the atonement may thus be the happier, it is most certainly not more desirable from the point of view of the community. The fact that a believer is happier than a sceptic is no more to the point than the fact that a drunken man is happier than a sober one. The happiness of credulity is a cheap and dangerous quality of happiness, and by no means a necessity of life. Whether Socrates got as much happiness out of life as Wesley is an unanswerable question; but a nation of Socrateses would be much safer and happier than a nation of Wesleys; and its individuals would be higher in the evolutionary scale. At all events it is in the Socratic man and not in the Wesleyan that our hope lies now. Consequently, even if it were mentally possible for all of us to believe in the Atonement, we should have to cry off it, as we evidently have a right to do. Every man to whom salvation is offered has an inalienable natural right to say 'No, thank you: I prefer to retain my full moral responsibility: it is not good for me to be able to load a scapegoat with my sins: I should be less careful how I committed them if I knew they would cost me nothing.'

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    The ring which you are holding, my friend, is identical to that one. I had it cut according to the model of the king's ring, and damascened in Spain. The original is still in the Escorial; it would have been pleasant to steal it, for I easily acquire the instincts of a thief when I am in a museum, and I always find objects which have a history - especially a tragic history - uniquely attractive. I am not an Englishman for nothing - but that which is easily enough accomplished in France is not at all practical in Spain: the museums there are very secure.

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    Wake early, take more!

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    Through the grace of a thief, one can become a thief and through the grace of a Gnani [the enlightened one], one can become a Gnani [the enlightened one].

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    Time is self absorbed, takes what it wants and doesn't return the favor. It is greedy, its pockets full of the lives of those left behind. It is a magician and a thief.

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    Usipochangia mawazo wewe ni mwizi, unaiba mawazo ya wengine, wewe ni mbinafsi pia.

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    Thieves and liars kill indirectly, unintentionally, and with no other weapon than their tongues and malice.

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    This was an urban legend that didn't make it on to Snopes.com

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    When I am actually willing to marry you, I will wear your earrings. Don't wait for it, Thief.

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    Yeah, you got married, didn’t you? But, you only did it because you thought we were over — and we’re not over. We’ll never be over. If you think that little piece of metal on your finger can shield off your feelings for me, you’re wrong. I wore one for five years and there wasn’t a day that went by where I wasn’t wishing it were you.

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    When your partner/spouse shows you who they really are, you better believe it.

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    You clumsy wench—Gods above! Are you trying to rob me, girl?” The nobleman seizes my wrist and yanks it from his pocket. My hand comes up with the pipe clenched in it. I stare at him, horrified. “I . . .” “I’ll have your head for this!” the man rages. “I’ll have you whipped!” *** “I got the pipe,” I say, holding it up. He stares for a minute, blinking, and then bursts into laughter. A few curious deer stick their heads through the shrubs to see what the racket is. Aladdin doubles over, laughing loud enough to startle birds from the trees overhead, and after a moment, I start laughing too. I haven’t laughed this hard in a long, long while, and it feels wonderful. We sit on the grass and laugh until our faces are red and we’re out of breath. “You are the worst thief I have ever seen,” declares Aladdin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I got it, didn’t I?” “My grandmother could pick pockets better than that! Though that’s not quite fair; my grandmother was the best pickpocket in Parthenia. She taught me all her tricks. Drove my mother crazy.

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    You and I are happening. No one is keeping us apart again. Not Noah or Cammie, and least of all, fucking Leah. You are mine. Do you understand me?

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    You don't necessarily need atomic bombs to destroy a nation. Politicians who value their pockets than the life of citizens always do that every day.

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    Does your guilty past catch up so fast with your age? You've been robbing hex nuts, cap nuts, lock nuts and wing nuts. No wonder you have turned into a greedy nut." ~ Angelica Hopes, If I Could Tell You

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    You shouldn't panic so much," Siris said. "You'll never be a good thief if you panic.

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    At that level through out the 18th century, another vision of admirable behavior persisted. The mob did not want the smooth conformable man, the slick hypocrite who could so politely maneuver his way into the rewards of high politics and high society. They wanted his very opposite, the clever thief. The man who thrived not by using the well oiled wheels of society but by opposing them and cheating them; by attending to the well-being of his own heroic self.

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    Avarice is opposed to nobility. It believes that by robbing many of all they have, that it (greed) is cloaked in the nobility that is the birthmark of the people.

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    Cruel people are not only people who kill innocent people with guns. Individuals who steal from government coffers to enrich themselves at the expense of the poor are grossly cruel.

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    Your face says much, thief. Trust me, I'm the one who's looking at it.

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    Aprendió el arte vagabundo de los troperos. Aprendió el otro, más difícil, de mandar hombres; ambos lo ayudaron a ser un buen ladrón de hacienda.

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    A thief might steal from anyone. Why he’s stealing from you is what you need to understand.

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    A word of advice,” he says, as I stop in his office to say goodbye. “When you’re in love with a woman, you shouldn’t get involved with other women.” “Noted,” I say. “Though, I would like to offer that she is probably sleeping with another man as we speak.

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    Cash. Pay cash, Theodore. It's safest, unless you keep your wallet where someone can pick your pocket." "I'm going to feel someone sticking their fucking hand in my pocket." He gets in the truck. I open my door and throw him his wallet as I get inside. "I'm not so sure you would.

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    Excuses are a time thief. Have a goal, accept responsibility, and take action!

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    Doubt is a thief of the soul.

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    Dream thieves are those who leave their real dreams aside and struggle to pick other people's dreams to work on. They suffer to do attempt what they can't do,

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    Father Brown got to his feet, putting his hands behind him. 'Odd, isn't it,' he said, 'that a thief and a vagabond should repent, when so many who are rich and secure remain hard and frivolous, and without fruit for God or man?

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    Hair the color of lemons,'" Rudy read. His fingers touched the words. "You told him about me?" At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting. Years ago, when they'd raced on a muddy field, Rudy was a hastily assembled set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. In the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears. He was a triple Hitler Youth athletics champion. He was her best friend. And he was a month from his death. Of course I told him about you," Liesel said.

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    Hot, bright heat filled him like some ecstatic poison, and Hartan's pony shied in terror as a wordless howl burst from his throat. His dripping ears were flat to his skull, fire crackled in his brown eyes, his huge sword blurred in a whirring figure eight before him, and the brigand running at him gawked in sudden panic. The raider's feet skidded in mud as he tried to brake, but it was far too late. He was face-to-face with the worst nightmare of any Norfressan, a Horse Stealer hradani in the grip of the Rage, and a thunderbolt of steel split him from crown to navel.

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    Having no applicable skills, in any possible area whatsoever, effectively makes me the master of redundancy. But that info is obsolete, like my insults dictionary, which I stole.

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    He loved his job. What was advertising, anyway, but a knowledge of people and of which buttons to push to nudge them into opening their wallets? It was, he often though, an accepted, creative, even expected twist on picking those wallets. For a man who had spent the first half of his life as a thief, it was the perfect career.

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    Here is a tragicomic reality of all the regimes: People work hard to feed their thief politicians, their thief kings and thief queens or their thief presidents! And therefore the tragicomic reality of all the times is this: There can exist no thieves without the support of people!

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    He went through the bills with the jaundiced eye of a China trader, asking himself not whether he had been stolen from, but where the theft had occurred. If he couldn’t find it, that would suggest his factor back home in Shanghai was either cleverer or more honest than he had thought, and Crane didn’t think he was particularly honest.

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    How could she ever know that someone would pick her story up and carry it with him everywhere?

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    He finally found someone like him. Someone who shared his abilities, someone who understood what he had to go through every day. And she turned out to be bad. Evil. A murderess and a thief. That hurt more than not knowing if he would ever find someone else out there like him.

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    He is a liar, a thief, a killer and a cannibal. And he is running for political office! Someone must stop him.

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    However this miraculous place worked, it seemed real enough. The sun was hot, the soda was cold, the sky was blue, the grass was green. What more did he need to know?

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    How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!

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    I flow like a butter in the nailed pan I stole. I also kept the nail, to polish and use as a means of teleportation.

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    I am in all truthfulness attempting to be cheerful about this whole topic, though most people find themselves hindered in believing me, no matter my protestations. Please, trust me. I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.

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    If a politician obtained a great wealth after he has been elected, his being an immoral corrupt man is not a possibility but it is a self-evident reality!