The hippo of recollection stirred in the muddy waters of the mind.
The librarians were mysterious. It was said they could tell what book you needed just by looking at you, and they could take your voice away with a word.
Omens are everywhere in this world you just have to find the one that fits.
Magic never dies. It merely fades away.
If you kept changing the way people saw the world, you ended up changing the way you saw yourself.
Building a temple didn’t mean you believed in gods, it just meant you believed in architecture.
People aren’t just people, they are people surrounded by circumstances.
Perhaps the magic would last, perhaps it wouldn’t. But then again, what does?
Theres no stink more sorrorful than the stink of wet, burnt paper. It means: the end.
There are millions of chords. There are millions of numbers. And everyone forgets the one that is a zero. But without the zero, numbers are just arithmetic. Without the empty chord, music is just noise.
Most horses don’t walk backwards voluntarily, because what they can’t see doesn’t exist.
Assassins did have a certain code, after all. It was dishonorable to kill someone if you weren’t being paid.
Creators aren’t gods. They make places, which is quite hard. It’s men that make gods. This explains a lot.
Few things are hidden from a quiet child with good eyesight.
The shortest unit of time in the multiverse is the New York Second, defined as the period of time between the traffic lights turning green and the cab behind you honking.
I don’t think I’ve drunk enough beer to understand that.
It was raining in the small, mountainous country of Llamedos. It was always raining in Llamedos. Rain was the country’s main export. It had rain mines.
Be careful what you wish for. You never know who will be listening.
Or – and this she knew was a far more accurate way of looking at it – the book was true and reality was lying.
The trouble with being a god is that you’ve got no one to pray to.