But even a ninety-year-old blind priest would stop and stare at this woman. If he weren’t blind, that is. Dumb metaphor, I thought. I’ll have to work on that one. I have trouble with metaphors.
Oh, but I’m a scholar. I enjoy things with curious properties, and stupidity is most interesting. The more you study it, the further it flees – and yet the more of it you obtain, the less you understand about it!
That’s an answer in the same way that ketchup can be hair gel.
I wasn’t a nerd, mind you, but I’d spent a lot of my youth studying Epics, so I’d had limited experience with social interaction. I mixed with ordinary people about the same way that a bucket of paint mixed with a bag of gerbils.
You can’t immerse yourself in something,” Prof said softly, “without coming to respect it.
No matter how good you were, someone was better. Live by that knowledge, and you would never grow so confident that you became sloppy.
Tremble and fear, all enemies!” he shouted. “For we shall shake the air with thunder and blood! Your doom is imminent!
Passionate, with an intense, smoldering resolve. A leashed anger that he used, because he had dominated it. And a certain tempting arrogance. Not the haughty pride of a highlord. Instead, the secure, stable sense of determination that whispered that no matter who you were – or what you did – you could not hurt him. Could not change him. He was. Like the wind and rocks were.
She assumes,” Wax said, “that our detective style isn’t normally the punchy-punchy, stabby-stabby type.” “To be fair,” Wayne said, “it’s usually a more shooty-shooty, whacky-whacky type.
If you could explain something perfectly, then you’d never need art.
Owning things of value is secondary to creating things of value where none once existed.
Is human nature to believe that other places and other times are better than the here and now.
People need stories, child. They bring us hope, and that hope is real.
A hero does not choose her trials. She steps into the darkness, then she faces what comes next.
In all the history of mankind, has any conqueror decided they had enough? Has any man just said, ‘This is good. This is what I wanted,’ and gone home?
I will protect those I hate. Even if the one I hate most is myself.
The definition of a lawman, Uncle, is easy,” Wax said, feeling blood from a dozen cuts trickle down his face. He lifted Suit by the front of his clothing, bringing him close. “He’s the man who takes the bullet so nobody else has to.
Every moment in our lives seems trivial,” Zahel said. “Most are forgotten while some, equally humble, become the points upon which history pivots.
Sometimes Vin imagined she was like the ash, or the wind, or the mist itself. A thing without thought, capable of simply being, not thinking, caring, or hurting. Then she could be... free.
Life before death, strength before weakness, journey before pancakes -Lopen.