“Poetry? It's a hobby.
I run model trains.
Mr Shaw there breeds pigeons.
It's not work. You don't sweat.
Nobody pays for it.
You could advertise soap.”

“Shaw… has a woman ever asked you to write a poem for her?"
"Good God, no," Gideon replied with a snicker. "Shaws don't write poetry. They pay others to write it for them and then take the credit for it.”

“Can't you… I don't. Find a hobby or something?"
"Being charming is my hobby.”

“The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in combat.”

“Work a lifetime to pay off a house — You finally own it and there's nobody to live in it.”

“Hip," I murmur, remembering last night, how I lost it completely in a stall at Nell's---my mouth foaming, all I could think about were insects, lots of insects, and running at pigeons, foaming at the mouth and running at pigeons.”

“Shaw's plays are the price we pay for Shaw’s prefaces.”

“I don't like doing anything that makes you sweat if you don't come at the end of it.”

“I have found out a gift for my fair;
I have found where the wood-pigeons breed.”

“Enjoy your sweat because hard work doesn't guarantee success, but without it, you don't have a chance.”