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There are no foolish oaths. All are the mark of men and true spren over beasts and subspren. The mark of intelligence, free will, and choice.
“What,” Pattern said with a hum, “is a chaperone?” “That is someone who watches two young people when they are together, to make certain they don’t do anything inappropriate.” “Inappropriate?” Pattern said. “Such as … dividing by zero?”
Pattern you funny funny spren you
The trick to happiness wasn’t in freezing every momentary pleasure and clinging to each one, but in ensuring one’s life would produce many future moments to anticipate.
“I love tradition,” Dalinar said to Kadash. “I’ve fought for tradition. I make my men follow the codes. I uphold Vorin virtues. But merely being tradition does not make something worthy, Kadash. We can’t just assume that because something is old it is right.”
wonder if men who use cords to bind are fools, since tradition, society, and momentum are going to tie us all down anyway.”
“Only loyalty and power are relevant, for morality is as ephemeral as the changing weather. It depends upon the angle from which you view it.
“But sometimes a hypocrite is nothing more than a person who is in the process of changing.”
Shallan lost herself, and she even let Veil appear among them. She was those women, those girls, every one of them. And none of them were her.
“I suppose,” Kaladin said slowly, “that maybe you feel … like a moon.…” “No, not really.” It was about responsibility, but he had really not explained it well.
You decide how you are defined. Don’t surrender that to them. They will gleefully take the chance to define you, if you allow it.”
“Shallan?” Adolin piped up. “Um…” “I’mfinethatwasanexperiment,” she said, ducking into the showroom and throwing herself into a seat placed there for customers. Storms, that was humiliating.
Failure is the mark of a life well lived. In turn, the only way to live without failure is to be of no use to anyone. Trust me, I’ve practiced.”
‘The question,’ she replied, ‘is not whether you will love, hurt, dream, and die. It is what you will love, why you will hurt, when you will dream, and how you will die. This is your choice. You cannot pick the destination, only the path.’
“You know, I’ve never really felt like this before? It’s not just Kaladin, it’s all of this. And what’s happening to us.” He shook his head. “We certainly are an odd bunch.” “Yes. Seven people. Odd.”
Pattern again with the laughs
“I will take responsibility for what I have done,” Dalinar whispered. “If I must fall, I will rise each time a better man.”
Kaladin floated downward toward him. “Ten spears go to battle,” he whispered, “and nine shatter. Did that war forge the one that remained? No, Amaram. All the war did was identify the spear that would not break.”
Then he smiled, and—with a hand still unsteady, like the legs of a child taking his first steps—he took another page and wrote a title for the book. Oathbringer, My Glory and My Shame. Written by the hand of Dalinar Kholin.
