I don’t write fantasy; I write historical novels about an imaginary place.
Old enemies must be friends when a greater evil looms.
Never think taking a life is easy. Do that and in a way they win.
There is no magic, only tricks.
It was something he had never quite understood about himself. He had seen thousands of men die in nearly ten years of war and could look on it at times with a near-total detachment, but an animal suffering – be it a horse or needra injured in battle, or the stag now dying – moved him deeply.
From our birth we are all dying, but some of us finish sooner than others.
He remembered how his father had told him that when it snowed even humans could see the wind, and it was so. He watched as gusty eddies danced and flickered, a single flake pausing for a moment to hover before his eyes, a twirling crystal of light, the exhale of his warm breath causing it to dance away even as it melted.
Fear is the little death, daughter. It kills in tiny pieces.
Train those around you well, Pug. Make them powerful, but make them loving, generous men and women as well.
As my grandmother said, ‘Sorry won’t unbreak the eggs’. Just clean the mess and move on.
People most often don’t see what is right before them.
Bountiful was the table of your grandsire, for there is still fat at the root of my heart from the feasts he gave in my honour.
Trying to guess the enemy’s next move is useful; trying to guess what they are thinking is pointless.
In an infinite universe, all things are not only possible but, no matter how improbable, certain to exist somewhere at some time.
Remember this: of all the commodities men trade in, information is the most valuable by far.
Nicholas stopped her again. “So you tried to kill her?” “Only a little. I would have stopped before she was completely dead.
Seconds slowed and passed before Nicholas’s mind’s eye like a parade of snails upon the garden path.
Love is like a lot of things, it is always best done with the head. Save mindless efforts for mindless things.
Of course we’ll be there.” After Amos left, Ghuda shook his head. In a sour tone he muttered, “Why are we going to Crydee, Ghuda? I haven’t the vaguest idea, Ghuda. Shall we go find Nakor, Ghuda? Certainly, Ghuda. Then shall we strangle him, Ghuda?” With a single nod of his head, he answered himself, “With great delight, Ghuda.
Love doesn’t demand; it accepts. It has taken me my life to learn this.
Come you near or go you far, light from candle or flick’ring star? See what you will, or so you think, but is water sweet before you drink? Who can know of truth and lies? When can a man believe his eyes? Suspect what’s known to mortal senses, for our nature vaults all mystic fences, that stand between that which is and seems, and back we are to truth... or dreams.