The Bone Orchard

American Gods 1×1

& They did not yet have a word in their language for «miserable.» They would have to invent one.

& Shadow Moon: Best thing, only good thing about being in prison, is the relief. You don’t worry if they’re going to get you when they already got you. Tomorrow can’t do anything today hasn’t already managed.

& Shadow Moon: You know, I’m not superstitious. I believe in plenty when there’s reason and evidence to believe. I don’t believe in anything I can’t see.

& ’Low Key’ Lyesmith: .... You understand what I’m saying right now?
    Shadow Moon: One of those «behaviors that work inside a specialized environment such as a prison but can fail to work when outside such an environment» sort of situations.
    ’Low Key’ Lyesmith: No, dummy. I’m saying... Do not. Piss off. Those bitches. In airports.

& Mr. Wednesday: I guess this must be your lucky day, huh?

& Mr. Wednesday: Cashews. Love ’em. Native to Brazil but grow like motherfuckers in Florida.

& Mr. Wednesday: Oh, my boy, that is one outstandingly improbable name. Shadow Moon. Moon Shadow. Goddamn hippie parents.
    Shadow Moon: Hippie parent.
    Mr. Wednesday: Mama had a big afro, huh? «Dancing Queen,» hmm?

& Shadow Moon: And if I was inclined, what might I call you?
    Mr. Wednesday: What’s today?
    Shadow Moon: Wednesday.
    Mr. Wednesday: Hmm. Today’s my day.

& Mr. Wednesday: Ah, you got more talent than me. I got two. One is I can sleep anywhere, any time. The other one is that I usually end up getting what I want... on average, over time. It’s all about getting people to believe in you. It’s not their cash, it’s their faith. Well, take this plane, for example...

& Mr. Wednesday: .... Now, what’s keeping us aloft? Faith or Newton?

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& Paunch: You’re the sexiest goddamn thing I’ve ever gotten to touch for free.

& Mr. Wednesday: Rigged games are the easiest to beat.

& Shadow Moon: Who are you?
    Mad Sweeney: I’m a leprechaun.
    Shadow Moon: Okay, you’re a little tall for a leprechaun.
    Mad Sweeney: That’s a stereotype and represents a very narrow view of the world.

& Shadow Moon: So what, you’re from Ireland?
    Mad Sweeney: I told you I’m a leprechaun. We don’t come from Moscow, Russia. Or Moscow, Idaho, for that matter.

& Mad Sweeney: Devil’s in the details.

& Shadow Moon: Tastes like prison hooch, brewed in a garbage bag with rotten fruit.
    Mr. Wednesday: But sweeter, smoother, stranger. It’s mead... honey wine. Drink of heroes, drink of the gods.
    Mad Sweeney: Tastes like a drunken diabetic’s piss.

& Mr. Wednesday: Good. We have a compact. The second seals the deal, the third is the charm, and we’re done.

& Mad Sweeney: Now that’s a coin trick for you.
    Shadow Moon: How’d you do it?
    Mad Sweeney: With panache.

& Mr. Wednesday: I just thought you could use some sleep. It’s not every day a man gets to bury his wife.

& Shadow Moon: You know, I had a surprise for you. I read when I was in. Mainly history. Six books a week for three years. 813 books. 8 and 13... Fibonacci numbers. And I know that why? Because four of them were about math. I like math. Who knew?

& Technical Boy: We are the future, and we don’t give a fuck about him or anyone else like him anymore. They are consigned to the dumpster. Now we have reprogrammed reality. Language is a virus. Religion, an operating system, and prayers are just so much fucking spam.

& Technical Boy: The dominant fucking paradigm, Shadow. That is the only important thing.

& Technical Boy: We’re not just going to kill you, Shadow. We’re going to delete you. One click, and you are overwritten. Undelete... that is not an option.

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