Tress of the Emerald Sea

by Brandon Sanderson

“Hon, no man is worth getting killed over,” the rat said.

Empathy is an emotional loss leader. It pays for itself eventually.

I’m not going to ask you to remember them all. Mostly because I don’t remember them all. Therefore, for ease of both narrative and our collective sanity, I’m going to name only the more important members of the Crow’s Song. The rest, regardless of gender, I’ll call “Doug.”

Once a society reaches peak Doug, it’s time for it to go sit in the corner and think about what it has done.

If you wish to become a storyteller, here is a hint: sell your labor, but not your mind. Give me ten hours a day scrubbing a deck, and oh the stories I could imagine. Give me ten hours adding sums, and all you’ll have me imagining at the end is a warm bed and a thought-free evening.

“Civilization exists because everyone wants to keep their innards in’r innards.

Danger doesn’t make a thing less beautiful—in fact, there’s a magnifying influence. Like how a candle seems brightest on the darkest night. Deadly beauty is the starkest variety. And you will never find a murderess more intoxicating, more entrancing, than the sea.

She hadn’t grown up knowing danger, but they were quickly becoming acquainted.

If you want to ruin Captain Crow’s day, point out that she made someone happy. If you want to ruin her entire week, point out that she did it by accident.

One of the great tragedies of life is knowing how many people in the world are made to soar, paint, sing, or steer—except they never get the chance to find out.

The effervescence of purpose discovered.

For better or worse, Tress was a pirate now.