This story is for all the slightly broken people out there. I am one of you. You are not alone. You are all beautiful to me.
For the eorld seems never to offer anything worthwhile without also providing a dreadful opposite
The greeks created gods that were in their image; warlike but creative, wise but ferocious, loving but jealous, tender but brutal, compassionate, but vengeful.
I do not wish I were a man. I only wish that being a woman did not limit me so.
Nudity I find, rapidly becomes boring when it is not treated as scandalous.
There are no endings, and never will be endings, to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was an ending.
Loial, son of Arent, son of Halen had secretly always wanted to be hasty.
I'm usually pretty good at staying alive. I've only failed one time that I can remember, and it hardly counts.
You never could tell what a man would do when he was drunk even if that man was your own self.
Prudence is for those who intend to live long lives.
I love you more eternal than pi.
Women could compress a great deal into one look.
I will be a beautiful disaster.
We are all of us daily decaying, after all, the speed is our only variant.
Secrets decay as corpses do, growing ranker over time.
A useful maxim: two rarities combined call for close attention.
If your enemy offers you two targets, strike at a third.
Change came so slowly you never noticed it creeping up on you, or far too fast for comfort, but it came.
Sometimes you had to laugh if only to keep from crying.
The place was a hovel, but not the cozy hovel of the sort inhabited by poets and scribes, crammed with bookshelves, candles, and antique curios. Nor was it the sparse kind of hovel, occupied by little more than a ragged blanket and a straw-stuffed mattress: It was a kobold’s hovel, and that meant shithole.