What do they do to students at the University who eavesdrop? Bast asked curiously.

I've never really understood the desire people have to quantify a baby. "He's X big and Y long," As if the baby is a fish you're not sure you're going to keep. Or some prize potato you're hoping will win a prize at the county fair.

In the future, when Joss Whedon and I are best friends and hanging out together in my tree fort, I hope Neil Gaiman comes over too.

You, I said, are sweet music in a distant room.

Now," Kvothe said angrily, "you've both acted understandably, but that does not by any means mean that either of you have behaved well.

A lot of people pretend to be. They wear robes and put on airs to take advantage of the ignorant and gullible.

A woman who goes around wearing a knife is obviously looking for trouble." She reached deep into her pocket and brought out a long, slender piece of metal, glittering all along one edge. "However a woman who carries a knife is ready for trouble. Generally speaking, it's easier to appear harmless. It's less trouble all around.

Anyone who thinks boys are innocent and sweet has never been a boy himself, or has forgotten it. And anyone who thinks men aren't hurtful and cruel at times must not leave his house often.

No. You should take pleasure in following the Lethani. If you fight well, you should take pride in doing a thing well. For the fighting itself you should feel only duty and sorrow. Only barbarians and madmen take pleasure in combat. Whoever loves the fight itself has left the Lethani behind.

Some were fickle as cats, sliding away when you needed comfort, then coming back later when you didn't want them, jostling at you, stealing your breath.

I grew thinner and more ragged. I slept in rain or sun, on soft grass, moist earth, or sharp stones with an intensity of indifference that only grief can promote.

Love is blind, and a deaf-mute too.

She was not vain enough to work her will against the world. But she could use the things the world had given her.

Could you help me catch the moon?

Tempi reached out and gripped my shoulder firmly. Then he looked up, met my eye, and held it for a brief moment. Such a rarity for him. He gave a small, quiet smile. Proud, he said.

I cannot help but wonder how many of us walk through our lives, day after day, feeling slightly broken and alone, surrounded all the time by others who feel exactly the same way.

This is the most terrifying thing I've ever seen, Wilem said quietly. Do all the women in the world secretly know each other? Sim asked. Because that would explain a lot.

I jerked away from her, almost falling. No! I meant to shout but it came out as a weak croak, Don't touch me. My voice was shaking, though I couldn't tell if I was angry or afraid.

I'd like respect, but failing that, a little healthy fear can go a long way to making things run smoothly.

I am telling you three times.

When necessity demands it, I'm an excellent liar. Not the noblest of skills, but useful. It ties closely to acting and storytelling, and I learned all three from my father, who was a master craftsman.

Roses! I swear you men have all your romance from the same worn book. Flowers are a good thing, a sweet thing to give a lady. But it is always roses, always red, and always perfect hothouse blooms when they can come by them.

Distrust turns quickly to dislike.

Before anything else could be said, Lorren stormed into the room. His normally placid expression was fierce and hard. I felt myself sweat cold and I thought of what Teccam wrote in his Theophany: There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.

When all the world was palimpsest, it was a perfect palindrome.

I would pass over the whole of that evening, in fact. I would spare you the burden of any of it if one piece were not necessary to the story. It is vital. It is the hinge upon which the story pivots like an opening door. In some ways, this is where the story begins. So let's have done with it.

Secrets of the heart are different. They are private and painful, and we want nothing more than to hide them from the world. They do not swell and press against the mouth. They live in the heart, and the longer they are kept, the heavier they become.

Thieves, Heretics, and Whores.

There's no clear water from a muddy well. All you can do is let the silt settle until the water clears otherwise it will taste sour.

She started to turn her face to me, then stopped and looked down again. It's quite a thing, she said. There are so many men, all endlessly attempting to sweep me off my feet. And there is one of you, trying just the opposite. Making sure my feet are firm beneath me, lest I fall.

Kvothe, Defend yourself well at the University. Make me proud. Remember your father's song. Be wary of folly. Your friend, Abenthy.

I shook my head. No sir. It's merely to satisfy my curiosity. I have a great respect for curiosity, Lorren said with no particular inflection.

Of course, Kvothe said grandly. Clean, quick, and easy as lying. We know how it ends practically before it starts. That's why stories appeal to us. They give us the clarity and simplicity our real lives lack.

When you're alone, it's easy to be afraid. It's easy to focus on what might be lurking in the dark at the bottom of the cellar steps. It's easy to obsess on unproductive things, like the madness of stepping into a storm of spinning knives. When you're alone it's easy to sweat, panic, fall apart ...

It's the questions we can't answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think.

I write what I don't know. It's way more interesting.

You will not find it in the words of poets or the longing eyes of sailors. If you want to know of love, look to a trouper's hands as he makes his music. A trouper knows.

My fingers darted, then danced, then flew. I played hard as a hailstorm, like a hammer beating brass. I played soft as sun on autumn wheat, gentle as a single stirring leaf.

Etiquette is a set of rules people use so they can be rude to each other in public.

But for most practical purposes Tarbean had two pieces: Waterside and Hillside. Waterside is where people are poor. That makes them beggars, thieves, and whores. Hillside is where people are rich. That makes them solicitors, politicians, and courtesans.

I'm about to die of terminal curiosity, you know.

Words have to find a man's mind before they can touch his heart, and some men's minds are woeful small targets.

You are an educated man. You know there are no such things as demons." Bast smiled a terrible smile. "There is only my kind." Bast leaned closer still, Chronicler smelled flowers on his breath. "You are not wise enough to fear me as I should be feared. You do not know the first note of the music that moves me.

But no. It didn't suit him. She should have known. He was not a one for fastening. For holding closed. Neither was he dark. Oh no. He was emberant. Incarnadine. He was bright with better bright beneath, like copper-gilded gold.

Don't get me wrong, magic is cool. But a nervous mother singing to her child at night while something moves quietly through the dark outside her house? That's a story. Handled properly, it's more dramatic than any apocalypse or goblin army could ever be.

Only priests and fools are fearless, and I've never been on the best of terms with God.

I am a mytht," Kote said easily, making an extravagant gesture. "A very special kind of myth that creates itself. The best lies about me are the ones I told.

The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our chilhood behind.

Fear tends to come from ignorance.