Kvothe continued, smiling himself “I see you laugh. Very well, for simplicity’s sake, let us assume I am the center of creation. In doing this, let us pass over innumerable boring stories: the rise and fall of empires, sagas of heroism, ballads of tragic love. Let us hurry forward to the only tale of any real importance.” His smile broadened. “Mine.

...If there's one thing I'm well versed in it's my own good qualities.

She washed he hands,then looked at my side. "you haven't even had it stitched?" She said incredulously."I've been rather busy," I said. "With the running like hell and hiding all night.

You are unmannerly,sharp-tounged, and show no respect for your betters,which is practically everyone given your lowly ravel birth.""I am Edema Ruh to my bones.That means my blood is red.It means I breathe the free air and walk where my feet take me.I do not cringe and fawn like a dog at a man's title.That looks like pride to people who have spent their lives cultivating supple spines"-Kvothe

But only a fool claims there is no such thing as love. When you see two young ones taring at each other with dewy eyes, there it is. So thick you can spread it on your brread and eat it. When you see a mother with her child, you see love. When you feel it roil in your belly, you know what it is. Even if you cannot give voice to it in words.

Lord but I dislike poetry. How can anyone remember words that aren't put to music?

We can't do anything but snap at each other," I said. "The masters made sure of that. Anything too extreme would get us expelled for Conduct Unbecoming a Member of the Arcanum. Why do you think I haven't made his life a hell?""You're lazy?" Wil suggested.

Adamın ateş rengindeki saçları hakiki bir kızıldı. Gözleri koyu renkli ve dalgındı. Adam pek çok şeyi bilmekten gelen ve hemen göze çarpmayan bir güvenle hareket ediyordu. Yoltaşı onundu, tıpkı üçüncü sessizliğin de onun olduğu gibi. Bu da münasipti, zira bu sessizlik en büyüğüydü ve diğer ikisini sarıp sarmalıyordu. Güz sonu kadar derin ve genişti. Üzerinden nehirlerin aktığı kocaman bir kaya kadar ağırdı. Ölmeyi bekleyen bir adamın sabırlı, sapı kesilen bir çiçeğinkine benzer sesiydi.

The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.