The Fires of Heaven (The Wheel of Time, #5)

by Robert Jordan

“Life is a dream from which we all must wake before we can dream again.

Letting emotions go clouds judgment for a moment, but holding them in clouds it always.

“He strains to hear a whisper who refuses to hear a shout.” She would not shout at Rand again. A quiet, firm, womanly voice, that was the thing. For that matter, she ought not to shout at Nynaeve, either; she was a woman, not a girl throwing tantrums.

Rand sitting down in a chair, and somehow she knew that the chair’s owner would be murderously angry at having her chair taken; that the owner was a woman

Mat throwing dice with blood streaming down his face, the wide brim of his hat pulled low so she could not see his wound, while Thom Merrilin put his hand into a fire to draw out the small blue stone that now dangled on Moiraine’s forehead.

“I always say, if you must mount the gallows, give a jest to the crowd, a coin to the hangman, and make the drop with a smile on your lips.”

Almost dead yesterday, maybe dead tomorrow, but alive, gloriously alive, today.

“An open sack hides nothing, and an open door hides little, but an open man is surely hiding something.”

“The Creator made women to please the eye and trouble the mind.” Aes Sedai were certainly no different in one respect. “One hour.”

Take what you can have. Rejoice in what you can save, and do not mourn your losses too long. It