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Geralt, who always maintained there was no such thing as an ugly woman, suddenly felt compelled to revise this opinion.
Before entering the guardhouse, he prudently filled his lungs with fresh air. It didn’t help. The guardswomen must have eaten more beans than usual that day. Many, many more beans. Who knew, perhaps it was Sunday.
Guard against disappointments, because appearances can deceive. Things that are really as they seem are rare. And a woman is never as she seems. Dandelion, Half a Century of Poetry
It was believed he was the world’s oldest living sorcerer. Perhaps that was really true, perhaps not, but the fact remained that Ortolan was the oldest-looking sorcerer. This was strange, in so far as Ortolan was the inventor of a celebrated mandrake decoction, an elixir used by sorcerers in order to arrest the ageing process.
Anxiety is never irrational, Geralt thought to himself. Aside from psychological disturbances. It was one of the first things novice witchers were taught. It’s good to feel fear. If you feel fear it means there’s something to be feared, so be vigilant. Fear doesn’t have to be overcome. Just don’t yield to it. And you can learn from it.
A season of storms.”
“‘A story is a largely false account, of largely trivial events, fed to us by historians who are largely idiots,’”
I’m becoming popular, thought Geralt, folding his hands on his chest. Too popular. Should I dye my hair, perhaps?
The said witcher ought also to be silenced, should he begin to delve too deeply into the matter.
what you used to be means more to people than what you are.
“Winter is coming,”
