Blood of Elves (The Witcher, #1)

by Andrzej Sapkowski

“Songs and ballads”—the musician bowed—“never end, dear lady, because poetry is eternal and immortal, it knows no beginning, it knows no end—”

“And who are you putting make-up on for, exactly?” “Myself. A woman accentuates her beauty for her own self-esteem.”

When you know about something it stops being a nightmare. When you know how to fight something, it stops being so threatening.

“The world is falling to ruins,” repeated Coën, nodding his head in feigned thoughtfulness. “How many times I’ve heard that.”