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Kindle Notes & Highlights
The evil and decisive fling down those who are moral, honest and noble but maladroit, hesitant and full of scruples.’
The mule was called Draakul. It was so named by Regis immediately after being stolen and so it remained. Regis was clearly entertained by the name, which no doubt had some amusing significance in the culture and speech of vampires, but which he did not wish to explain to us, claiming it was an untranslatable pun.
The conclusion thus being that the most effective defence against intellectual domination is roundly to affront the domineering intellectual.
for though the Dank Wilderness was so dank it would have been difficult to imagine anything danker,
Dank, dank, dank
Verily, great self-righteousness and great blindness are needed to call the gore pouring from the scaffold justice. Vysogota of Corvo
For the law is not jurisprudence, not a weighty tome full of articles, not philosophical treatises, not peevish nonsense about justice, not hackneyed platitudes about morality and ethics. The law means safe paths and highways. It means backstreets one can walk along even after sundown. It means inns and taverns one can leave to visit the privy, leaving one’s purse on the table and one’s wife beside it. The law is the sleep of people certain they’ll be woken by the crowing of the rooster and not the crashing of burning roof timbers! And for those who break the law; the noose, the axe, the stake
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The Law
‘You have an incredible talent for over simplification, Dandelion,’ Cahir muttered. ‘Have you really not understood what this is about? Or are you just talking for talking’s sake?’
Talking for talking sake
The time of lurching blindly towards the horizon is over, for now there might be something just over the horizon. The time for decisive action has arrived. Time for throats to be cut. For at last there’s someone to attack. Those who haven’t understood till now, let them understand–we finally have a clear-cut enemy within reach.
The time for decisive action has come.
The mill of destiny is turning, the querns of fate are grinding… Whatever is destined must occur.’
The mill of destiny is turning
I’ve stopped being a witcher. I’ve learned that now. On Thanedd, in the Tower of the Seagull. In Brokilon. On the bridge on the Yaruga. In the cave beneath Gorgon. And here, in Myrkvid Forest. No, I’m not a witcher now. So I’ll have to learn to manage without my medallion.’
The horn of Hemdall sounds as he stands facing his enemies on the rainbow-coloured arch of Bifrost.
The Horn of Hemdall sounds...
‘Row, men!’ Over their own yells, over the all-deafening roar of the elements, they nonetheless heard the cries of the men from Alkyone. Cries so extraordinary they made their hair stand on end. And these were old sea dogs, bloodied berserkers, mariners who had seen and heard many things. They dropped the oars, aware of their impotence. They were dumbfounded, they even stopped yelling. Alkyone, still whirling, slowly rose above the waves. And rose higher and higher. They saw the keel, dripping water, covered in shellfish and algae. They saw a black shape, a figure falling into the sea. Then a
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