We All Become What We Pretend To

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.

I've Got An Idea For A Modern Day Faerie Tale That I Think Would Made A Great Short Novel. But I Just Don't Have The Time To Work On It Right Now. I'm Way Too Busy With The 'kingkiller Chronicles' And Being A New Dad.

If I'd Been Whoring Before Class And Waved A Corset At Him, No One Would Have Thought Twice About It!

I Believe It, Chronicler Found Himself Thinking. Before It Was Just A Story, But Now I Can Believe It. This Is The Face Of A Man Who Has Killed An Angel.

I’d Heard You Were Dead.” "i Heard You Wear A Red Lace Corset,” I Said Matter-of-factly. “but I Don’t Believe Every Bit Of Nonsense That Gets Rumored About.