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September 4 - September 28, 2025
“By my best guess, spren are elements of the Cognitive Realm that have leaked into the physical world. They’re concepts that have gained a fragment of sentience, perhaps because of human intervention.
“Though at times he lacks foresight, Adolin has a good heart—as good as that of his father, who may be the best man I have ever known.
“What is it you think that I am?” Shallan whispered, meeting the older woman’s eyes, finally asking the question that she hadn’t dared. “Right now, you are but a promise,” Jasnah said.
“The Knights Radiant,” the Almighty said, standing up beside Dalinar, watching the knight attack the nightmare beast. “They were a solution, a way to offset the destruction of the Desolations. Ten orders of knights, founded with the purpose of helping men fight, then rebuild.”
“Why you?” Navani asked. “Why do you have to do this?” “Why is one man born a king, and another a beggar?” Dalinar asked. “It is the way of the world.”
“Something bad is going to happen,” Kaladin said. “Things can’t just continue to be good for me. That’s not how life is.
“What makes a lie good?” Shallan asked, taking careful notes, recording Pattern’s exact words. “True lies.” “Pattern, those two are opposites.” “Hmmmm . . . Light makes shadow. Truth makes lies. Hmmmm.”
“I seemed to make plants appear,” Shallan said. “Well, really just the color. One of the sailors saw the deck turn green, but it vanished when I stopped thinking about the plants.”
COLORS (Warbreaker hinting?)
Jasnah was dead. Shallan felt like weeping. A woman so brilliant, so amazing, was just . . . gone.
Ain't no way partnah
“You think I’m as dumb as that stick.” Stop insulting my stick.
Expectation wasn’t just about what people expected of you. It was about what you expected of yourself.
Good puns are lost on men with poor vocabulary.
In his dream, Kaladin was the storm.
Just Kaladin and a spear. As the world was meant to be.
you could not have a traitor who had not originally been a friend.
True wit was controlled wit. It shouldn’t be allowed to run free, any more than an arrow should be loosed in a random direction.
“It’s not a lie,” Shallan said, “if everyone understands and knows what it means.” “Mm. Those are some of the best lies.”
Cozy shelves lined the walls, each laden with books and ornaments. Many were in small glass cases. Trophies of some sort?
I too love my book trophies
Adolin saw her and closed the portfolio. He stood up, grinning. —oh, storms. That smile.
“You sound like Tukks used to.” “Oh? Was he brilliant, beautiful, and always right?” “He was loud, intolerant, and profoundly acerbic,” Kaladin said, standing up. “But yes, he was basically always right.”
“What are you doing here?” Kaladin asked him. “Trying to find mischief,” Wit replied cheerfully,
A shame. If you knew the history of that flute, it would make your brain flip upside-down.
If there is one thing I cannot stomach, it is boredom.
“Well done,” Wyndle said. “We’ll make an Edgedancer out of you yet.”
“You have an odd sense of morality, mistress.” “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Every sense of morality is odd.”
“Why do you care?” Wyndle asked again. He sounded curious. Not a challenge. An attempt to understand. “Because someone has to.”
I say that there is no role for women—there is, instead, a role for each woman, and she must make it for herself. For some, it will be the role of scholar; for others, it will be the role of wife. For others, it will be both. For yet others, it will be neither.
A woman’s strength should not be in her role, whatever she chooses it to be, but in the power to choose that role.
“Storms, you’re spoiled,” Kaladin said, smiling. “I’m refined, you insolent farmer,” Adolin said.
Renarin was there in his Bridge Four uniform, and he immediately joined his brother, speaking to him quietly in a jovial way, though he had out his little box that he liked to fidget with.
Renarin has my whol heart - poor anxious babe
“I am what the lighteyes have made me to be.”
She hesitated, then continued more softly. “Besides, no murderer would agree to accompany you. Everyone needs to have some standards, after all.”
the irony is golden
He saw it in her eyes. The anguish, the frustration. The terrible nothing that clawed inside and sought to smother her. She knew. It was there, inside. She had been broken. Then she smiled. Oh, storms. She smiled anyway. It was the single most beautiful thing he’d seen in his entire life.
Death didn’t bother Kaladin, but failing Dalinar . . . Storms.
“Have you ever had to choose between two equally distasteful choices?” “Every day I choose to keep breathing.”
“He wears white. I knew he’d come . . . but then . . . he only cared about Dalinar . . . Not even the assassin thinks I’m worthy of the throne. . . .”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
“We all die in the end, you see,” Kaladin said. The two of them walked down the corridor, Kaladin leaning on his spear to keep them upright. “So I guess what truly matters is just how well you’ve run.
“Prince Renarin, would you kindly slay this rock for me?”
