The Day We Fret About The Future

There Were Two Sets Of Double Doors Leading Out Of The Antechamber, One Marked Stacks And The Other Tomes. Not Knowing The Difference Between The Two, I Headed To The Ones Labeled Stacks. That Was What I Wanted. Stacks Of Books. Great Heaps Of Books. Shelf After Endless Shelf Of Books.

I'm Just Very Careful With My Words When I Write. Obsessively Careful. I'm The Sort Of Person Who Worries About The Difference Between "slim" And "slender."

I Think The Best Part Of Being An Author Is That I Get To Learn About Anything I Want And Explain It Away As Research.

By Your Logic I Should Also Be In Charge Of Solinade Dances, Needlework, And Horse Thieving.

Chronicler Picked Up His Pen, But Before He Could Dip It, Kvothe Held Up A Hand. "let Me Say One Thing Before I Start. I've Told Stories In The Past, Painted Pictures With Words, Told Hard Lies And Harder Truths. Once, I Sang Colors To A Blind Man. Seven Hours I Played, But At The End He Said He Saw Them, Green And Red And Gold. That, I Think, Was Easier Than This. Trying To Make You Understand Her With Nothing More Than Words. You Have Never Seen Her, Never Heard Her Voice. You Cannot Know.