Wind and Truth (The Stormlight Archive, #5)

by Brandon Sanderson

“Within reason.” “Whose reason?” “No idea,” she said.

“If it weren’t for that capacity, then what good would choices be? If we never had the power to do terrible things, then what heroism would it be to resist?”

“How many of you,” Adolin said, “will it take to fly my horse home?”

“Reality warps around you, Kaladin. It always has. Promise me. If there’s a promise, then we can make it happen.”

After how they’d parted, they’d do the proper thing: ignore it and let it fester.

“Are there places worse than the one being threatened with utter domination by a dark, destructive god?” “You’d be surprised,” Wit said. “A few have political fundraisers.”

Wit grew distant, a faint smile on his lips. “Once. It wasn’t a full Ascension, but a mortal did give up the power once. It proved to be the wrong choice, but it was the most selfless thing I believe I’ve ever witnessed. So yes, Dalinar, it is possible. But not easy.”

But let me teach a truth here that is often misunderstood: sometimes, it is not weakness, but strength, to stand up and walk away.

He fled backward, stepping on purple fearspren. Radiant didn’t blame him. Facing a Shardbearer without Shards was not a wise proposition. Unless you were a storm-faced bridgeman, of course.

As I fear not the child with a weapon he cannot lift, I will never fear the mind of a man who does not think. —From The Way of Kings, fourth parable

Not that either were very useful. Testament hid behind Pattern, who stood with one hand to his chest, pattern spinning, like a woman whose garden party had just been spoiled by unexpected rain.

May you have the courage someday to walk away. And the wisdom to recognize that day when it arrives. —From The Way of Kings, fourth parable

Nearby, Renarin stood up. “We’ve found my father. He’s in a vision.” “Good,” Pattern said. “Excellent, even! Let’s go murder some folks!”

It was easy to pretend superiority when you left your opponent unable to resist in any meaningful way.

Learning names carried a price, because Adolin knew the faces of the fallen. It was a price he’d pay again and again, because if you were going to die for someone, you could at least do it for someone who knew who you were.

Plus, I’m concerned about what Iyatil is plotting.” “Mmm … do you think she has a graph, or…”

She put her hand on his, resting on her shoulder. “When did you get so good at talking to humans?” “I listen to you,” Pattern said softly. She smiled. “Then I do the opposite,” he added.

This had all been started by love. Love and betrayal.

She held on. Tight. She’d always been good at holding to things she loved. Only recently had she begun to acknowledge when she needed to let go.

Kaladin was a killer, one of the best Szeth knew. But somehow he expressed the same wisdom as the most peaceful man Szeth had ever met. It was a revelation.

“It’s all right,” he said. He took a deep breath, and started toward the ring of swords. “I’m here.”