Mashiara. Beloved of heart and soul, it meant, but a love lost, too. Lost beyond regaining.
Who knows a woman’s heart? Most women will shrug off what a man would kill you for, and kill you for what a man would shrug off.
Some women,” Dyelin murmured into her wine, “can make a fish bite by crooking a finger, Lady Birgitte. Other women have to drag their bait all over the pond.
You are quite beautiful, child. Perhaps you should beware of Perrin. I never see him but in the company of beautiful girls.” Faile gave Perrin a flat, considering look, then tried to gloss it over quickly.
When you have never known a thing except to dream, it becomes more than a talisman.
The Wheel of Time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of time. But it was a beginning.
And I will not allow you to think that you make my decisions, or made them. I am myself, not an appendage to you. Now go away. I must finish these arrows if I am to have even a few shafts that will fly true. I do not mean to kill you, and I would not have it happen by accident.” Unstopping the glue pot, she bent over the table. “Do not forget to curtsy like a good girl on your way out.
We are dead men, Lews Therin murmured. Dead men should be quiet in their graves, but they never are.
Why do they use it like that? Peace.” “When you have never known a thing except to dream,” Lan replied, heeling Mandarb forward, “it becomes more than a talisman.
Light, women would believe anything about a man so long as it was bad. And the worse it was, the more they had to talk about it.
And at the end of every life, as he lay dying, as he drew his final breath, a voice whispered in his ear. I have won again, Lews Therin. Flicker.
It is all right to hate them, Egwene. It is. They deserve it. But it isn’t all right to let them make you like they are.
Strong endures; hard shatters.” Cadsuane.
There was a limit to how many insults a man could swallow in silence.
Rand noticed trees split open as if struck by lightning. “The cold,” Lan answered when he asked. “Sometimes the winter is so cold here the sap freezes, and trees burst. There are nights when you can hear them cracking like fireworks, and the air is so sharp you think that might shatter, too. There are more than usual, this winter past.” Rand shook his head. Trees bursting? And that was during an ordinary winter. What must this winter have been like? Surely like nothing he could imagine.
You did not rise in the ships just through your ability to Weave the Winds or predict the weather or fix a position. You needed to read the intent that lay between the words of your orders, to interpret small gestures and facial expressions; you had to notice who deferred to whom, even subtly, for courage and ability alone took you only so high.
What are you two blathering about?” she said sharply. “Just things that men talk about,” Lan replied. “You wouldn’t understand,” Rand said.
There was a difference between being proud of a grand fireplace in your hall and walking into the flames.
Strangers and a gleeman, fireworks and a peddler. It was going to be the best Bel Tine ever.
Sometimes you had to laugh if only to keep from crying.