The Slow Regard of Silent Things (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #2.5)

by Patrick Rothfuss

It was wise enough to know itself, and brave enough to be itself, and wild enough to change itself while somehow staying altogether true.

But his truest treasure was the sweetness of his face, kind enough for kissing.

Some days simply lay on you like stones. Some were fickle as cats, sliding away when you needed comfort, then coming back later when you didn’t want them, jostling at you, stealing your breath.

Cruelty never helped the turning of the world.

Nine tenths of alchemy was chemistry. And nine tenths of chemistry was waiting.

This story is for all the slightly broken people out there. I am one of you. You are not alone. You are all beautiful to me.