Nader

“He saw a light to his left. Farther along the rim of the city. Drawn to it, like a weary traveler drawn to a fragrant cookfire, he started walking. That…was a person standing there, wasn’t it? Holding something that glowed in his fingers, a sphere. Wearing a uniform, facing away from Nomad, looking out through the darkness. Storms. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. Ignoring Auxiliary’s second prompting for an explanation, Nomad walked forward. Haunted by what he might find. Worried that he was going mad. Yet desperate to know. Could it… “Kal?” he asked into the storm. The figure turned, revealing a hawkish face and an eminently punchable grin. “Aw, Damnation,” Nomad said with a sigh. “Wit? What the hell are you doing here?”
― Brandon Sanderson, The Sunlit Man

“We talked through the long hours of night. I spoke subtle circles around the way I felt, not wanting to be overbold. I thought she might be doing the same, but I could never be sure. It was like we were doing one of those elaborate Modegan court dances, where the partners stand scant inches apart, but—if they are skilled—never touch. Such was our conversation. But not only were we lacking touch to guide us, it was as if we were also strangely deaf. So we danced very carefully, unsure what music the other was listening to, unsure, perhaps, if the other was dancing at all.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

“I felt awful. I felt really, really awful. And I wanted to go home. Home, like love, hate, war, and peace, is one of those words that is so important that it doesn’t need more than one syllable. Home is part of the fabric of who humans are. Doesn’t matter if you’re a vampire or a wizard or a secretary or a schoolteacher; you have to have a home, even if only in principle—there has to be a zero point from which you can make comparisons to everything else. Home tends to be it. That can be a good thing, to help you stay oriented in a very confusing world. If you don’t know where your feet are planted, you’ve got no way to know where you’re heading when you start taking steps. It can be a bad thing, when you run into something so different from home that it scares you and makes you angry. That’s also part of being human. But there’s a deeper meaning to home. Something simpler, more primal. It’s where you eat the best food because other predators can’t take it from you very easily there. It’s where you and your mate are the most intimate. It’s where you raise your children, safe against a world that can do horrible things to them. It’s where you sleep, safe. It’s where you relax. It’s where you dream. Home is where you embrace the present and plan the future. It’s where the books are. And more than anything else, it’s where you build that world that you want.”
― Jim Butcher, Peace Talks

“Rikke sat in Skarling’s Chair, an old sheepskin draped over the back and onto the seat, red cloak around her shoulders and green stones around her neck, the tattoos black on her pale face. She looked comfortable, in that uncomfortable-looking chair, one leg crossed over the other with the worn boot gently swinging. There were some big names in the room, but everyone faced a bit towards her, like flowers turning their petals towards the sun.”
― Joe Abercrombie, The Wisdom of Crowds