You dream too much, child. Our kind, we make our way with strong backs and closed mouths.
Tangaloor, fire-brightFlame-foot, farthest walkerYour hunter speaksIn need he walksIn need, but never in fear.
So that's what--one yes, one not sure, and one I had had a dream about a bug.
Whatever my ancestors did to you, none of them consulted me.
We go into unknown places. As do all mortals,
If only men would do what they should.
Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You'll find what you need to furnish it - memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That w...
I've always preferred the city at night. I believe that San Judas, or any city, belongs to the people who sleep there. Or maybe they don't sleep - some don't - but they there. Everybody else is just...
Fear goes where it is invited.
What's the light of Heaven look like on earth? Like sunlight streaming through clouds in the tackiest garage sale painting you ever saw. Really, it's so beautiful it's embarrassing. No subtlety whatso...
I thought... I thought you might... Help you? By my grove, I am helping you. You're not starving anymore, are you? <…> You had a dry night's sleep, too, and you're no longer coughing your liver and li...
He led them around the base of a great fallen tree whose exposed roots resembled more than anything else a huge broom - a broom that would have fired the imagination of Rachel the Dragon toward heroic...
An idle mind is the Devil's seedbed.
After all, is it not the way we humans shape the universe, shape time itself? Do we not take the raw stuff of chaos and impose a beginning, middle, and end on it, like the simplest and most profound o...
¡Un hombre que posee sabiduría no se sienta a esperar que el mundo aparezca ante él pedazo a pedazo para probar su existencia!Binabik
Remember that each light between sunrise and sunset is worth dying for at least once.
In bad times, a king or a queen can be a rock for the waters to crash against, so those less strong are not washed away. I will be such a rock. Only give me a chance, sweet Zoria, and I will be a rock...
I hope not, but hope makes a flimsy armor,
Books, Morgenes said grandly, leaning back on his precarious stool, —books are magic. That is the simple answer. And books are traps as well. Magic? Traps? Books are a form of magic— the doctor lifted...
Yes, look, said Martine. The Other has played his knight.