The others followed, and found themselves in a small, stuffy basement, which would have been damp, smelly, close, and dark, were it not, in fact, well-lit, which prevented it from being dark.
Most people seem to take pleasure in feeling superior to someone. I’m not like that, which pleases me because it makes me feel superior.
There is no excuse for bad manners, except fast reflexes.
What’s the point of having weak enemies? They just waste your time.
He got up and walked out, so I missed seeing the powerful sorcerer doing his powerful sorcery, which would have involved him closing his eyes and then, I don’t know, maybe taking a deep breath or something.
One man’s mistake is another man’s opportunity.
There are millions of ways for people to die, if you number each vital organ, each ways it can fail, all the poisons from the earth and the sea which can cause these failures.
Do you think it’s possible to discuss politics without preaching?
No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style.
Minneapolis has two seasons: Road Removal and Snow Repair.
But once you allow yourself to recognize necessity, you find two things: One you find your options so restricted that the only course of action is obvious, and, two, that a great sense of freedom comes with the decision.
She smiled at me. We were all friends here. Morrolan carried Blackwand, which slew a thousand at the Wall of Barrit’s Tomb. Aliera carried Pathfinder, which they say served a power higher than the Empire. Sethra carried Iceflame, which embodied within it the power of the Dzur Mountain. I carried myself rather well, thank you.
Snow, tenderly caught by eddying breezes, swirled and spun in to and out of bright, lustrous shapes that gleamed against the emerald-blazoned black drape of sky and sparkled there for a moment, hanging, before settling gently to the soft, green-tufted plain with all the sickly sweetness of an over-written sentence.
Chapter the Eleventh: In Which the Plot, Behaving in Much the Manner Of a Soup to which Corn Starch Has been Added, Begins, at Last, to Thicken.
What foul sorcery is this?” she said. “Pretty standard foul sorcery; nothing special.” “Okay,” she said. “Just checking.
The creation of powerful magical tools, generally, is the result of one of three things: the desire to impress a lover; an accident while trying to create something else entirely; or a side project created to assist while working toward something considered more significant by the creator.
Captain,” said Khaavren, both by way of affirmation and correction, thus conveying the maximum amount of information in the fewest possible words; a custom of his, and one that this historian has, in fact, adopted for himself, holding efficiency of language to be a high virtue in all written works without exception.
Boss, what, exactly, are we doing here?” “Feeling maudlin.” “Oh. Good. How long are we planning on doing that?” “Don’t you ever miss the days when you used to be nostalgic?” “What?” “Never mind.
There’s nothing worse than a smartass who pretends not to understand hyperbole.
Several years ago, I was getting drunk with four or five of the most powerful sorcerers in the Empire – like you do – when Daymar told a story.