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.

I ran my hands over the lid again, feeling increasingly sick to my stomach. I couldn’t think of a word to say. How could I tell her someone had stolen my lute after she’d gone through all the work of having this beautiful gift made for me? Denna grinned excitedly. “Let’s see how your lute fits!” She gestured, and the man behind the counter brought out my lute and set it in the case. It fit snugly as a glove. I began to cry.

“You are my bright penny by the roadside. You are worth more than salt or the moon on a long night of walking. You are sweet wine in my mouth, a song in my throat, and laughter in my heart.”

“Remember: there are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”

A cat does not think of stretching, it stretches. But a tree does not even do this. A tree simply sways without the effort of moving itself. That is how she moved.

Sometimes leaving is the only thing you can do.

“I need you to breathe for me,” she repeated. “That’s seven words.”