They have no Aes Sedai touching the True Source to protect them. Blacksmith, perhaps the walls have weakened enough for the Dark One himself to touch events. Not with a free hand, or we’d be done already, but maybe tiny shiftings in the threads. A chance turning of one corner instead of another, a chance meeting, a chance word, or what seems like chance, and they could be so far under the Shadow not even Moiraine could bring them back.
Sing of Manetheren, the sword that could not be broken.
The same.” The guardsman raised his eyes to Mat’s. “But you will no be crossing, lad, east or west. Your name do be Matrim Cauthon, or Fortune abandon me.
Hopper sent to him, but you are here too strongly, and too long from your body.
But trust is the color of a dark seed growing. Trust is the color of a heart’s blood flowing. Trust is the color of a soul’s last breath. Trust is the color of death.
Aemon had sent out messengers. Aid was promised if they could hold for but three days at the Tarendrelle. Hold for three days against odds that should overwhelm them in the first hour. Yet somehow, through bloody assault and desperate defense, they held through an hour, and the second hour, and the third. For three days they fought, and though the land became a butcher’s yard, no crossing of the Tarendrelle did they yield.
The Creator had made the world and then left humankind to make of it what they would, a heaven or the Pit of Doom by their choosing. The Creator had made many worlds, watched each flower or die, and gone on to make endless worlds beyond. A gardener did not weep for each blossom that fell.
It was easier to ask forgiveness, than permission.
The mighty tell the lesser to dig in the mud and keep their own hands clean.
Faile was the only woman Perrin wanted, but sometimes he felt like a fish trying to understand a bird.
You may be old enough to marry, Matrim Cauthon, but in truth you shouldn’t be off your mother’s apron strings.
Change what you can if it needs changing, but learn to live with what you can’t change.’ You’ll only get a sick stomach, otherwise.
To the Aiel, it was not a war; it was an execution.
You stand up straw men,” Nynaeve said. “We have a saying in the Two Rivers. ‘Whether the bear beats the wolf or the wolf beats the bear, the rabbit always loses.
I’ve been thinking.” Her eyebrows rose, but he was used to surprise whenever he claimed an idea. Even when his ideas were as good as theirs, they always remembered how deliberate he was in thinking of them.
I know something of taking an enemy into your bosom. His blade goes in quicker when he is close.” With.
Men kept sticking their hands in the fire thinking this time it would not burn, so.
Blood of our blood mixed with the old blood, raised by an ancient blood not ours.
How people see you first is what they hold hardest in their minds. It is the way of the world.
I would not mind you in my head, if you were not so clearly mad.