The Wound of the World Quotes

“sometimes progress was just a matter of trying dumb things until you stumbled on a smart one.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“We lie to them to control them," Dante said. "And because we're so frail we can't imagine that they're not. When we lie to them, it isn't really to protect them. It's to protect ourselves. To allow us to pretend that they're the weak ones.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“But sometimes progress was just a matter of trying dumb things until you stumbled on a smart one.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“It isn't long enough!" "So Minn tells me. Now go!”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“Mumbling curses the way some men might pray, Blays hitched up his pack and walked onto the platform. The boards jogged under his weight. He altered his gait so his feet swept a fraction of an inch above the platform. The good news was this stopped the platform from jogging up and down. The bad news was it made him look like an idiot, and took twice as long as walking like a normal person would have.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“Naran withdrew and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "I don't know what I've done to deserve such friendship. But I will work to earn it." "My life has always depended on my friends," Dante said. "And they can always depend on me.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“Naran's cell was clasped shut. Dante struck the lock with a blade of nether and stepped inside. The singing stopped—it had been Naran, singing a song of the sea, a sea he'd feared he'd never see again. "Oh no," Naran said. "I've finally gone insane." Blays strolled forward. "If we're the best your fevered brain can come up with, you really need to meet some more interesting women. Unless they don't interest you at all, in which case I'm flattered.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“Upwards of fifty people were out enjoying the temperate morning, all of them well-dressed, all of them useless. How much silver did it cost to dress them in linens, to feed them beef and quail eggs, to house them in their lordly quarters? Why didn't the peasants rise up and take back what these leeches had bled from them? With that thought, she stiffened. She'd always considered herself to be fighting against these people. Now, she was working for their equivalent in Narashtovik. That was the way, wasn't it? Whatever you thought you were, the world corrupted you.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“On the scale of things I detest, he ranks somewhere between spider orgies and explosive hemorrhoids.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“I spend a lot of time thinking about where I'll end up," Blays said to her. "I can't see the future any better than anyone else. But I hope I never become like you." Already on his way out of the chamber, Dante didn't see if Blays' words had any impact on the old woman's heart: but they cracked something in his own.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“The nether can make you look like an avatar of the gods come to deal out wrath and ruin. But don't let yourself get so drunk on the vision of crushing and smiting that you forget the range of your power. Skilled nethermancers are more than a sledgehammer. They're also a scalpel. The nether can be used to solve any trouble you fall into—as long as you have the wit and imagination to put it to use." He crouched down and held out his palm. Sorrowen's mouse scurried into it. Dante lifted the undead rodent up to eye level. "When you're alone in Bressel, and the enemy's closing in on you, remember that it doesn't always take lightning and hellfire to save your life. Sometimes, all it takes is a mouse.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“A piece of him was happy to have made his land a little safer. Yet it reminded him that for all you did, your work would never be done: things were always breaking down, falling apart, dissolving into chaos. That was the lesson of the cracking of Arawn's Mill: even the gods couldn't make perfection that would last down through the years. In that case, why did mortals even try? Behind them, smoke climbed to meet the clouds, the fluttering ashes of the dead mingling with the rising wisps of nether.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“Something moved across the stark field of Raxa's face. "What could I become?" "I can't even guess," Dante said. "Part depends on talent. More depends on the work you put into that talent. And some depends on fate, or luck, or the will of the gods. All you can do is try, every day, and see how far it takes you.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“Enough!" Blays glared daggers at Dante, then turned them on Raxa. "You think some stupid sword is power? This man can annihilate you down to the burnt ends of your hair, steal a piece of your soul and turn it into a demon, then send that demon to devour everyone you've ever loved. And after that, he can travel into the afterlife to hunt you down and tell you all about it. "With power like that, I'm sure it must be very tempting to abuse it. Gods know everyone else seems to. But we try to use it to make the world just a slightly less horrible place. You're currently delaying us from achieving that. For the good of the land, we ought to smear you and get on with our business.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“She frowned. "Do you mind if I stand up? It's hard to negotiate when your ass is getting soaked." "The philosopher Kamrates said the same thing." Blays took a step back.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“Maybe things are easier in Pocket Cove, where the most trying decision you have to make is whether to eat the flounder or the perch, but in the rest of the world, you rarely get a perfect solution. Most of the time, the best you can do is go with the option that makes you vomit the least.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“Dante crouched over the woman's body, wary that it was yet another ruse. Then again, if it was a trick, Raxa Dosse was doing an admirable job of not caring about all the blood pouring out of her head. He dumped shadows into her skin. To his utter lack of surprise, her skull was cracked. Her brain looked all right, but the trouble with brains was that they could appear perfectly normal even while the organ's owner was laughing at the clouds and pissing themselves.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“This felt colder. The careless knife of truth that cuts as deep as the sea. Blays seemed to be expressing the belief that everyone was as cracked and broken as Arawn's Mill. Inherently flawed. And his solution to their problem carried the implied belief that these flaws weren't necessarily a bad thing: because if you accepted the basic meanness of humans, then that granted you the power to exploit them.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“People liked to think their lives were a progression, a building-upon, as cohesive as a song, complete with crescendo. But it was more like a bard who'd gotten so drunk he couldn't remember which story he was telling. Every ten minutes he'd switch to a new one, leaving his audience annoyed and confused.”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World

“far enough up the pecking order”
― Edward W. Robertson, The Wound of the World