The Wise Man's Fear (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #2)

by Patrick Rothfuss

So yes. It had flaws, but what does that matter when it comes to matters of the heart? We love what we love. Reason does not enter into it. In many ways, unwise love is the truest love. Anyone can love a thing because. That’s as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.

Yep.

The air was heavy with the smell of leather and dust, of old parchment and binding glue. It smelled of secrets.

One of my favorite smells ever.

“Names reflect true understanding of a thing, and when you truly understand a thing you have power over it.”

As a display of wealth, it was subtle and staggering. It was one thing to be able to afford fine clothes, but how much would it cost to maintain a wardrobe that never showed the slightest hint of wear?

It was like watching stories being born.

A secret of the mouth is like a stone in your boot. At first you’re barely aware of it. Then it grows irritating, then intolerable. Secrets of the mouth grow larger the longer you keep them, swelling until they press against your lips. They fight to be let free.

Secrets of the heart are different. They are private and painful, and we want nothing more than to hide them from the world.

Stories don’t need to be new to bring you joy. Some stories are like familiar friends. Some are dependable as bread.

Music is there for when words fail us.