The Path of Daggers (The Wheel of Time, #8)

by Robert Jordan

She had announced her dislike at least twenty times already, but Nynaeve never surrendered just because she had lost.

He seized the True Power without thought, the saa billowing black across his sight.

the tendrils of the True Power, drawn from the Great Lord himself,

It’s one of the things men are for, taking the blame, she remembered Lini saying once, and laughing while she did. They usually deserve it, even if you don’t know exactly how.

And your Warders. Sensible fellows, most of them. Surprisingly sensible, for men. Does being a Warder do something to them?”

Words could hurt as hard as fists, the wrong words, words you never meant, let loose in a temper.

If not for Perrin, Faile thought she might actually have liked her! Briefly, to extinguish that hateful thought, she pictured herself shaving Berelain bald.

Dogs seemed to know women who could channel as easily as cats did, but dogs appeared to think the women were cats, if unnaturally large ones.

The fact that men like looking at a woman doesn’t mean she invites it, as you should know well.

Whether or not what you do has the effect you want, it will have three at least you never expected, and one of those usually unpleasant.

A woman in love often put her brains on the shelf when she was around the man in question.

“He’s not a total idiot,” she said dryly. “In fact, he has a good head on his shoulders. He thinks like a woman, most of the time.”

They had both leaped up in strength since Dumai’s Wells. That was the way of it with men; women seemed to gain smoothly, but men suddenly jumped.

Most women will shrug off what a man would kill you for, and kill you for what a man would shrug off.

“I enjoy you holding me just as much as . . . as the other.”