The Name of the Wind (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #1)

by Patrick Rothfuss

Fear tends to come from ignorance. Once I knew what the problem was, it was just a problem, nothing to fear.

“It is a deep red flower that grows on a strong vine. Its leaves are dark and delicate. They grow best in shadowy places, but the flower itself finds stray sunbeams to bloom in.” I looked at her. “That suits you. There is much of you that is both shadow and light. It grows in deep forests, and is rare because only skilled folk can tend one without harming it. It has a wondrous smell and is much sought and seldom found.” I paused and made a point of examining her. “Yes, since I am forced to pick, I would choose selas.”

“You remind me of a willow.” She said easily. “Strong, deep-rooted, and hidden. You move easily when the storm comes, but never farther than you wish.”

At those times I felt a tension building between us, something almost tangible. When she looked sideways at me with her secret smile, the tilt of her head, the way she almost faced me made me think she must be hoping for me to do…something. Put my arm around her? Kiss her? How did one know? How could I be certain? I couldn’t. So I resisted the pull of her. I did not want to presume too much, did not want to offend her or embarrass myself. What’s more, Deoch’s warning had made me uncertain. Perhaps what I felt was nothing more than Denna’s natural charm, her charisma. Like all boys of my age, I was an idiot when it came to women. The difference between me and the others is that I was painfully aware

I should have been bolder and kissed her at the end. I should have been more cautious. I had talked too much. I had said too little.

“Beer dulls a memory, brand sets it burning, but wine is the best for a sore heart’s yearning.”