A Quote by Patrick Rothfuss

He was giving me enough rope to hang myself with. Apparently he didn't realize that once a noose is tied it will fit one neck as easily as another. — © Patrick Rothfuss
He was giving me enough rope to hang myself with. Apparently he didn't realize that once a noose is tied it will fit one neck as easily as another.
The rope that pulls you from the flood can become a noose around your neck.
A happy childhood can't be cured. Mine'll hang around my neck like a rainbow, that's all, instead of a noose.
Can you accuse me, if a man is putting a rope around my neck, of being violent, when I violently struggle against this lyncher to try and keep him from putting a rope around my innocent neck? Why, you'd be insane to cause me - to call me violent.
Give him enough rope and he will hang himself.
We cannot put a noose around another man's neck without first hanging ourselves.
My enduring feeling about René Lévesque is that if he had chosen to hang me, even as he tightened the rope round my neck, he would have complained about how humiliating it was for him to spring the trapdoor. And then, once I was swinging in the wind, he would blame my ghost for having obliged him to murder, thereby imposing a guilt trip on a sweet, self-effacing, downtrodden Francophone.
First you find a little thread, a little thread leads you to a string, and the string leads you to a rope. And from the rope you hang by the neck.
Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman — a rope over an abyss.
That was the - It was an exciting time because it was as though I was sort of tied up in a paper bag or in a gunny sack with a rope around the neck of it, and all of a sudden with the acceptance of that first book everything sort of spilled out!
A leash is a rope with a noose at both ends.
The whole business is the crudest sort of stratagem, since we have no way of foreseeing it to the end. It is a mere paying out of rope on the chance that somewhere along the length of it will be a noose.
Weave me a rope from this dark despair, from this dull-eyed pain... Weave me a rope from this endless night, from this distant shore... Weave me a rope that will pull me through these impossible times.
That is another chamber of my heart that shows no electrical activity - the chamber that used to flicker into life when I saw a film that moved me, or read a book that inspired me, or listened to music that made me want to cry. I closed that chamber myself, for all the usual reasons. And now I seem to have made a pact with some philistine devil: if I don't attempt to re-open it, I will be allowed just enough energy and optimism to get through a working day without wanting to hang myself.
I have stupid neck. Look it up. You can look up 'stupid neck,' and it'll probably be a picture of my neck. Just do me a favor. Look it up, and you'll realize that the WWE will never clear me to compete again.
We need to realize that the economic situation between Mexico and the United States is not just one in which we trade with one another. We make things together. We have shared production platforms. Cross-border trade is part of a single production process, and while apparently the Trump administration will seek to re-examine elements of that production platform, it is what it is and won't be easily dismantled.
Karl Marx once said, 'The last capitalist we hang shall be the one who sold us the rope.' Marx was wrong. The last capitalist to be hanged shall be the one who donated the rope, and then lobbied for his own hanging.
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