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He was Twinborn—a Feruchemist as well as an Allomancer. His Allomantic power was Steelpushing, and his Feruchemical power, called Skimming, was the ability to grow heavier or lighter.
whiskey and steel
Most Allomancers didn’t use whiskey in their metal vials. Most Allomancers were missing out on a perfect opportunity.
a bendalloy Allomancer, capable of creating a bubble of compressed time around himself.
Steris had called the Path a simple religion. Perhaps it was. There was only one basic tenet: Do more good than harm.
Harmony protect us from small-minded men with too much power.
“Stories of the good and the evil. Most people you meet, they aren’t quite either one.” Waxillium frowned. “I’d disagree. Most people seem basically good.” “Well, perhaps by one definition. But either attribute—good or evil—has to be pursued for it to be significant. People today … in general they are good, or sometimes evil, mostly by inertia, not by choice. They act as their surroundings prepare them to act.
the Field of Rebirth; the blanket of green grass and blooming Marewill flowers rose in a gradual hillside slope. The statues of the Last Emperor and the Ascendant Warrior dominated the top, capping their tomb. There was a museum there. Marasi had been there several times as a girl to look at the relics of the World of Ash that had been saved by the Originators, those who had been nurtured in wombs of the earth and reborn to build society.
“You’re a unique individual, Wayne.” “Technically we all are,” he said. Then he hesitated. “Except for twins, I guess.
“Have you ever felt you were useless, Lord Waxillium?” “Yes.” “It’s difficult to imagine that of someone as accomplished as you are.” “Often,” he said, “accomplishment and perception work independently.”
The measure of a person is not how much they have lived. It is not how easily they jump at a noise or how quick they are to show emotion. It’s in how they make use of what life has shown them.”
