cosmere 💬

Now that we abandon the tower, can I finally admit that I hate this place? Too many rules.

“Need a hand? Hmmmmm?” “You didn’t literally bring me a hand, did you, Ulaam?” Ulaam furtively tucked one arm behind his back. “Would I be so crass, Miss Tress?”

“Haunting. A nightmare made manifest.” “Kind of like my face?” Kaladin asked. Adolin glanced at him, then grinned. “Fortunately, Shallan covered it up for you with that illusion.” Kaladin found himself smiling.

I think I am late, this time. I think … I fear, oh God, that I have failed. No. This is not right, is it? How long has it been? Where am I? I … am Talenel’Elin, Herald of War. The time of the Return, the Desolation, is near at hand.…

Yes, the Stormfather said. But you must have Connection for a vision. You must have a reason for it. A meaning. It cannot be just anything. GOOD. Dalinar said, forging a bond. What are you doing? CONNECTING HIM. Dalinar said. UNITING HIM.

“I still doubt it will work.” “You’d doubt the sun’s rising if you weren’t proven wrong each day.” Raoden said with a smile.

I wonder if you could do that to a man. Pull him apart, emotion by emotion, bit by bit, bloody chunk by bloody chunk. Then combine them back together into something else.

"Have you seen me?" the man asked as Moash knelt. "No," Moash said, then rammed the strange golden knife into the man's stomach.

Journey before destination, you bastard.

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Kaladin had failed Moash. As soundly as he'd failed Dunny, Mart, and Jaks. And of them all, losing Moash hurt the most. Because in those callous eyes, Kaladin saw himself.

The mark of a great man is one who knows when to set aside the important things in order to accomplish the vital ones.

“You didn’t promise to kill me,” Wayne said, pulling on his socks. “You promised to have killed me. That there be the present perfect tense.”

"I came chasing someone." "A friend?" "A criminal," she said softly.

Someone else moves us, lawman.

"Did you know that? You are deeply connected to the remnants of a god." "Whom you killed." "Yes. I'll kill the other one too, eventually. She's hidden herself somewhere, and I'm too ... shackled."

The darkness becomes a palace. Let it rule! Let it rule!

"It's patently unfair," he said. "A mortal should NOT be able to stand beside one of the Bearers of the Contract and seem a fair match to their skill in imitation." "Aw, jealousy," Wayne said. He breathed it in. "Smells like cherry blossoms."

"But dont worry - like I said, you're right nice, but you ain't got enough punch for me. I like women what could take my face clean off with a good roundhouse." "You prefer women who could beat you up?" "Sure. It's a thing."

How often had he dreamed of hearing that voice again? He'd wept for the wish to tell her one last time of his love. To explain the hole, gaping like the wound from a shotgun blast, left in him by her death. To apologize.

He must pick it up, the fallen title! The tower, the crown, and the spear!