The Way of Kings (The Stormlight Archive, #1)

by Brandon Sanderson

Wardship to a woman of great renown was the best way to be schooled in the feminine arts: music, painting, writing, logic, and science. It was much like how a young man would train in the honor guard of a brightlord he respected.

“I have been brought up to show respect to ardents.” “Well, I myself find that respect is like manure. Use it where needed, and growth will flourish. Spread it on too thick, and things just start to smell.”

“You’re an ardent; you’re forbidden to have possessions. What did you bet?” “Two deep breaths of a winter rose’s fragrance,” said Brother Kabsal, “and the sunlight’s warmth on your skin.” He smiled. “We can be rather creative at times. Years spent marinating in a monastery can do that to a man.

“Merchants of the same type like to clump together,” Yalb said, rubbing his chin. “Seems dumb to me, but I guess merchants are like fish. Where you find one, you’ll find others.” “The same could be said of ideas,” Shallan said,

“At first meeting, I took you for a rural opportunist, seeking only to ride my name to greater wealth.” “You’ve changed your mind?” “No,” Jasnah said, “there is undoubtedly some of that in you. But we are each many different people, and you can tell much about a person by what they carry with them. If that notebook is any indication, you pursue scholarship in your free time for its own sake. That is encouraging. It is, perhaps, the best argument you could make on your own behalf.

Why was it that scientists were so excited to discover facts that farmers had known for generations and generations?

Kaladin watched the drops of water streaking down toward oblivion in the crevasse. Little suicidal jumpers.

Old friend, I hope this missive finds you well. Though, as you are now essentially immortal, I would guess that wellness on your part is something of a given.

“Authority doesn’t come from a rank,” Kaladin said, fingering the spheres in his pocket. “Where does it come from?” “From the men who give it to you. That’s the only way to get it.”

It felt surprisingly good to wear himself down in a way he chose.

“What’s happening to me? What am I?” “I don’t know. Does it matter?” “Shouldn’t it?” “I don’t know what I am either. A bridgeman? A surgeon? A soldier? A slave? Those are all just labels. Inside, I’m me. A very different me than I was a year ago, but I can’t worry about that, so I just keep moving and hope my feet take me where I need to go.”

He felt that by being a soldier, he could change things. Really change them. A part of him dreamed of going to war, of protecting Alethkar, of fighting alongside heroic lighteyes. Of doing good someplace other than a little town that nobody important ever visited. He sat down. Sometimes he dreamed like that. Other times, he found it hard to care about anything.

The most fragile period in a kingdom’s existence comes during the lifetime of its founder’s heir. During the reign of a man like Gavilar, men stay loyal because of their respect for him. During subsequent generations, men begin to see themselves as part of a kingdom, a united force that holds together because of tradition. “But the son’s reign … that’s the dangerous point.

“You have to learn when to care, son,” Lirin said softly. “And when to let go. You’ll see. I had similar problems when I was younger. You’ll grow calluses.”

The purpose of youth is to experience variety while it is still interesting.”

“We need you.” Need. That word had strange effects on men. Some ran when you used it. Others grew nervous. Teft seemed to long for it.

A man’s emotions are what define him, and control is the hallmark of true strength. To lack feeling is to be dead, but to act on every feeling is to be a child.”

Remember why we live. Remember warmth, remember good food. Remember friends, and song, and evenings spent around the hearth.

Could twilight years spent pretending to follow the precepts of better men erase a lifetime of butchery?

“To be honest, ‘arrogant’ doesn’t feel like quite the right word. It’s not specific enough.” “And what would be the right word, then?” “I don’t know. ‘Errorgant,’ perhaps.” Jasnah raised a skeptical eyebrow. “It means to be twice as certain as someone who is merely arrogant,” Shallan said, “while possessing only one-tenth the requisite facts.”

“Please, just remember that a woman’s mind is her most precious weapon. It must not be employed clumsily or prematurely.

“I feel inadequate to draw conclusions, Brightness.” “What is the point of research if not to draw conclusions?” “My tutors told me that supposition was only for the very experienced,” Shallan explained. Jasnah sniffed. “Your tutors were idiots. Youthful immaturity is one of the cosmere’s great catalysts for change, Shallan.

Books can store information better than we can—what we do that books cannot is interpret. So if one is not going to draw conclusions, then one might as well just leave the information in the texts.”

When the disease has run its course, normal healthy life seems wonderful by comparison.”

“You are old enough to wonder, to ask, to reject what is presented to you simply because it was presented to you. But you also cling to the idealism of youth. You feel there must be some single, all-defining Truth—and you think that once you find it, all that once confused you will suddenly make sense.”

“You’re young,” Teft said. “I’m old.” “That makes you wiser, presumably?” “Damnation no,” Teft said. “The only thing it proves is that I’ve more experience staying alive than you.

As a youth, he hadn’t understood why his father had often gone walking to think. The older Kaladin grew, the more he found himself imitating his father’s habits. Walking, moving, it did something to his mind. The constant passing of tents, colors cycling, men bustling—it created a sense of change, and it made his thoughts want to move as well.

“I should think,” Jasnah said, “that apology is an art of which we could use a few more masters.

He had given them a chance to fight back. That kind of opportunity changed a man.

He had a soft, kindly voice. She loved him for that. Partially because he liked to talk– and if you were going to have someone talk while you were attempting to think, they might as well have a soft, kindly voice.

Completely revolting, yet made entirely from appetizing ingredients.” He seemed to consider it a personal triumph.

Despair was a luxury.

If they weren’t fighting one another, they’d find others to attack. It’s what we do. Vengeance, honor, riches, religion—the reasons all just produce the same result.”

A story doesn’t live until it is imagined in someone’s mind.”

“People see in stories what they’re looking for, my young friend.”

‘I strode this insightful distance on my own, and forbade attendants. I had no steed beyond my well-worn sandals, no companion beside a stout staff to offer conversation with its beats against the stone. My mouth was to be my purse; I stuffed it not with gems, but with song.

Strength does not make one capable of rule; it makes one capable of service.”

“You are not a weak man, Dalinar,” Navani said. “I am. But weakness can imitate strength if bound properly, just as cowardice can imitate heroism if given nowhere to flee.”

Please. Please let me protect him. Make me strong enough.

What was a prayer, if not creation? Making something where nothing existed. Creating a wish out of despair, a plea out of anguish. Bowing one’s back before the Almighty, and forming humility from the empty pride of a human life.

I made a mistake. I’ll make more. I need you.”

If it helps you survive, it’s good. That’s all that needs to be said about it.”

Given two works of artistic majesty, otherwise weighted equally, we will give greater acclaim to the one who did it first. It doesn’t matter what you create. It matters what you create before anyone else. “So it’s not the beauty itself we admire. It’s not the force of intellect. It’s not invention, aesthetics, or capacity itself. The greatest talent that we think a man can have?” He plucked one final string. “Seems to me that it must be nothing more than novelty.”