Time of Contempt (The Witcher, #4)

by Andrzej Sapkowski

We know little about love. Love is like a pear. A pear is sweet and has a distinct shape. Try to define the shape of a pear.

But do you know when stories stop being stories? The moment someone begins to believe in them.

‘Money has no fatherland, Geralt. The merchants don’t care whose rule they make their money under. And the Nilfgaardian palatine doesn’t care who he levies taxes on. Dead merchants don’t make money or pay taxes.’