The Dragon Reborn (The Wheel of Time, #3)

by Robert Jordan

Lews Therin Kinslayer. The man who had begun the Breaking of the World, when madmen who could tap the power that drove the universe leveled mountains and sank ancient lands beneath the seas, when the whole face of the earth had been changed and all who survived fled like beasts before a wildfire. It had not ended until the last male Aes Sedai lay dead, and a scattered human race could begin trying to rebuild from the rubble—where even rubble remained.

“All of us, all of our lives, affect the lives of others, Min. As the Wheel of Time weaves us into the Pattern, the life-thread of each of us pulls and tugs at the life-threads around us. Ta’veren are the same, only much, much more so. They tug at the entire Pattern—for a time, at least—forcing it to shape around them. The closer you are to them, the more you are affected personally. It’s said that if you were in the same room with Artur Hawkwing, you could feel the Pattern rearranging itself. I don’t know how true that is, but I’ve read that it was. But it doesn’t only work one way. Ta’veren themselves are woven to a tighter line than the rest of us, with fewer choices.”

It was not that he seemed merely capable of violence and death; this man had tamed violence and death and kept them in his pocket, ready to be loosed in a heartbeat, or embraced, should Moiraine give the word.

“It is not comfortable being chosen by the Wheel, to be great or to be near greatness. The chosen of the Wheel can only take what comes.”

“Men!” Min muttered at the door. “Too blind to see what a stone could see, and too stubborn to be trusted to think for themselves.”

‘Should and would build no bridges,’ ” Elayne said. “Light, I used to hate it when Mother said that to me, but it’s true.

“Trust is as slippery as a basket of eels, sometimes.

“If you are afraid,” Nynaeve said, “you can still stand aside. It will be too late, once you’ve begun.” Elayne tossed her head back. “Of course I am afraid. I am not a fool. But not afraid enough to quit before I have even started.”

“Just remember that there is another choice. You need not be a puppet for the White Tower or prey for Ba’alzamon’s Darkfriends. The world is more complex than you can imagine.

“Men always seem to refuse to admit they are sick until they’re sick enough to make twice as much work for women. Then they claim they’re well too soon, with the same result.”

A flapping tongue has killed more men than sudden storms ever did.”

There’s always a balance, you know. Good and evil. Light and Shadow. We would not be human if there wasn’t a balance.”

“I am not afraid, you mud-footed swineherd,” Thom said with elaborate dignity. “I am shaking with rage because I’m traveling with a goat-brained lout who might kill the pair of us because he cannot think past his own—”

“Mat, a very wise woman once told me that time would heal my wounds, that time smoothed everything over. I didn’t believe her. Only she was right.”

Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this. Men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.

But when was I ever sensible? The only people I ever met who were sensible all the time were so boring that watching them could put you to sleep.

The Stone was a place of men. And men, he knew, were crueler hunters than ever wolves were.

For a heartbeat that took centuries he hung, wavering, balanced on the brink of being scoured away like sand before a flash flood.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he growled at the thief-catcher. “I saw what speaking earned you,” Sandar said simply. “I am no fool.”

Women are odd, but Aiel women make odd seem normal!

Prophecies are fulfilled as they are meant to be, not as we think they should be.”