Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive, #3)

by Brandon Sanderson

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 wonder if men who use cords to bind are fools, since tradition, society, and momentum are going to tie us all down anyway.”

Shallan wasn’t certain what she thought of the idea of a “true soldier” being the type who didn’t care about politics. Shouldn’t the why of what a man was doing be important to him?

They wouldn’t last a day in Azir, where queuing in an orderly way wasn’t only expected, it was practically a mark of national pride.

ah, Azir is Britain

You are a man with complicated beliefs, who does not accept everything you are told. 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.”

“You are not what I expected, Blackthorn,” Noura said. “And what did you expect?” “An animal,” she said frankly. “A half-man creature of war and blood.” Something about that struck him. An animal . . . Echoes of memories shuddered inside of him. “I was that man,” Dalinar said. “I’ve merely been blessed with enough good examples to make me aspire to something more.”

Aim for the sun. That way if you miss, at least your arrow will fall far away, and the person it kills will likely be someone you don’t know.”

“You make it sound like having the power to change the world is a bad thing.” “Bad? No. Abhorrent, depressing, ghastly. Having power is a terrible burden, the worst thing imaginable, except for every other alternative.”

“Power is a knife,” Wit said, taking his seat. “A terrible, dangerous knife that can’t be wielded without cutting yourself.

The longer you live, the more you fail. 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.

“Sometimes, a hypocrite is nothing more than a man who is in the process of changing.”

“I will take responsibility for what I have done,” Dalinar whispered. “If I must fall, I will rise each time a better man.”

He hadn’t lived as two, or four, or six men—he had lived as thousands, for each day he became someone slightly different. He hadn’t changed in one giant leap, but across a million little steps.

It becomes the responsibility of every man, upon realizing he lacks the truth, to seek it out.