The Rithmatist (Rithmatist, #1)

by Brandon Sanderson

Taste is frivolous when eating, he’d say—the body can get the same nutrients from bland food as it can from food that tastes good. Colors for fabric, paintings on walls, beautiful music—none of these things are necessary. However, humans are more than their need to survive.

can’t understand something until I know why it happens the way it does. There has to be an objective point of reference that determines what makes a good drawing and what doesn’t—even if that objective point of reference is the subjective opinion of the Rithmatist doing the drawing.”

You always seem to have people to talk to, but you don’t go out in the evenings. You have a lot of acquaintances. Not a lot of friends.”

So much about life was disappointment. He often wondered how humankind endured so long, and if the few moments when things went right really made up for all the rest.

“Do you know why time is so confusing to some of us, Joel?” Nalizar asked. Joel said nothing. “Because man created it. He sectioned it off. There is nothing inherently important about a second or a minute. They’re fictional divisions, enacted by mankind, fabricated.” He eyed Joel. “Yet in a human’s hands, these things have life. Minutes, seconds, hours. The arbitrary becomes a law. For an outsider, these laws can be unsettling. Confusing. Frightening.” He flipped the coin back to Joel. “Others of us,” he said, “take more concern to understand—for a person rarely fears that which he understands. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a competition to win.”