Your insult has offended me. If we were at the Peaks, we would have to duel in traditional alil'tiki'i fashion." "Which is what?" Teft asked. "With spears?" Rock laughed. "No, no. We upon the Peaks are not barbarians like you down here." "How then?" Kaladin asked, genuinely curious. "Well," Rock said, "is involving much mudbeer and singing." “How's that a duel?” "He who can still sing after the most drinks is winner. Plus, soon' everyone is so drunk that they forget what argument was about." Teft laughed. "Beats knives at dawn, I suppose.
No, not me.I'm not a good person or a bad person.I'm just here to kill things.
What wasdat, sir? What wazzat sir? What wassat, sir?” “Wayne, what are you babbling about?” Waxillium asked. “Practicing my pretzel guy,” Wayne said. “He had a great accent...” Waxillium glanced at him. "That hat looks ridiculous.” “Fortunately, I can change hats,” Wayne said in the pretzel-guy accent, “while you, sir, are stuck with that face.
It is you!" the man exclaimed. "We thought you weren't coming for another week!" "Ashe," Sarene mumbled, "who is this lunatic and what does he want with me?
Wayne: You wanna know why I really came to find you? Waxilliam: Why? Wayne: I thought of you happy in a comfy bed, resting and relaxing, spending the rest of your life sipping tea and reading papers while people bring you food and maids rub your toes and stuff. Waxilliam: And? Wayne: And I just couldn't leave you to a fate like that...I'm too good a friend to let a mate of mine die in such a terrible situation. Waxilliam: Comfortable? Wayne: No. Boring.
Well,” Waxillium said. “Perhaps I should begin by asking after your health.” “Perhaps you should,” Steris replied. “Er. Yes. How’s your health?” “Suitable.” “So is Waxillium,” Wayne added. They all turned to him. “You know,” he said. “He’s wearing a suit, and all. Suitable. Ahem. Is that mahogany?
It’s what happens when you shoot someone,” Wayne pointed out. “At least, usually someone has the good sense to get dead when you go to all the trouble to shoot them.
Welcome, Ruin said, to godhood.
I've found you can ignore half of what Dox tells you and not miss much-except for maybe they occasional complaint that you're spending too much.
"To Parlin's mind, nothing showed affection like a hunk of something dead and bleeding on the table.
You should try not to talk so much, friend. You'll sound far less stupid that way. - Breeze
You see the dilemma?” Ham asked. “I see an idiot,” Breeze mumbled.
The finest defense of character is correct action. Acquaint yourself with virtue, and you can expect proper treatment from those around you.
I never wanted to be feared. If I regret one thing, it is the fear I have caused. Fear is the tool of tyrants. Unfortunately, when the fate of the world is in question, you use whatever tools are available.
It seems that the rebels found the chaos of transition more difficult to accept than the tyranny they had known before. They joyfully welcomed back authority-even oppressive authority-for it was less painful for them than uncertainty.
Breeze turned to look out the window. "You were always the best of us, Sazed," he said quietly. "Because you believed in something.
What kind of woman is still able to trust people after everything she's been through? If she'd been Vin, she would have stabbed him in the back at the first opportunity, and that would have probably been the right thing to do. Yet, this girl just continued to trust. It was like finding a beautiful plant growing alone in a field of burnt ash.
Ham shook his head, sitting down, pouring himself something to drink. "I don't get it, El. Why'd she attack him?" "She's loony," Spook said.
I need something, Wax. A place to look. You always did the thinking.” “Yes, having a brain helps with that, surprisingly.
So, there I was, tied to an altar made from outdated encyclopedias, about to get sacrificed to the dark powers by a cult of evil Librarians.
Authors also create lovable, friendly characters, then proceed to do terrible things to them, like throw them in unsightly librarian-controlled dungeons. This makes readers feel hurt and worried for the characters. The simple truth is that authors like making people squirm. If this weren't the case, all novels would be filled completely with cute bunnies having birthday parties.
Yes, Bastille. I keep trying to get killed because it's inconvenient for you.
Katar," Raoden called. Yes, My Lord?" Do you know what it is? The secret, I mean?" Kahar smiled. "I havent't been hungry in days, my lord. It is the most amazing feeling in the world-I don't evern notice the pain anymore." Raoden nodded, and Kahar left. The man had come looking for a magical solution to his woes, but he had found an answer much more simple. Pain lost its power when other things became more importan. Kahar didn't need a potion or an Aon to save him-he just needed something to do.
You are out of control, Rand al'Thor,' she declared. I do what must be done,' he said, speaking now from the shadows. He sounded exhausted. ... I hate what you just did, Rand,' Nynaeve snarled. 'No, "Hate" isn't strong enough. I loathe what you've done. What has happened to you?' Test him!' Rand whispered, voice dangerous. 'Before condemning me, let us first determine if my sins have achieved anything beyond my own damnation.
It's a mystery," Vin said, narrowing her eyes and smiling. "We Mistborn are incredibly mysterious." Elend paused." Um...I'm Mistborn too, Vin. That doesn't make any sense." "We Mistborn need not make sense," Vin said." It's beneath us. Come on-the sun's already down. We need to get moving.
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