Quotes from Andrzej Sapkowski

Even when something bad happens to you, you have to go straight back to that piece of equipment or you get frightened.

Today Evil acts according to rights - because it is entitled to. It acts according to peace treaties, because it was taken into consideration when the treaties were being written...

Love,' Fringilla said slowly, 'is like renal colic. Until you have an attack, you can't even imagine what it's like. And when people tell you about it you don't believe them.

Men are psychologically unstable, too prone to emotions; not to be relied upon in moments of crisis.' 'That's

It's like they said! Geralt! It's like they said! Am I your destiny? Say it! Am I your destiny?' 'You're more than that, Ciri. Much more.

A la gente le gusta inventarse monstruos y monstruosidades. Entonces se parecen menos monstruos a sí mismos. [...]Entonces, como que se les quita un peso de encima. Y les resulta más fácil vivir.

There's no such thing as devils!" yelled the poet, shaking the cat from sleep once and for all. "No such thing! To the devil with it, devils don't exist!" "True." Geralt smiled. "But, Dandilion, I could never resist the temptation of having a look at something that doesn't exist.

I'll hear you out." "Without interrupting with spiteful comments?" "That I can't promise." "Oh well"–Stregobor slipped his hands into the sleeves of his robe–"then it'll only take longer.

Yes, yes," sighed Dandilion anew. "The world is changing, the sun sets, and the vodka is coming to an end.

Something can't be a rule if there are exceptions to it. And please don't give me any banal untruths about exceptions proving the rule. Tell me something about exceptions as such." "Only one thing," she said coldly, "can be said about exceptions. They exist. Nothing more.

Evolution didn't give you a sufficiently folded brain to enable you to understand.

He really is a famous poet, Nenneke. Surely you're not going to claim you've never heard his ballads." "I've heard them." The priestess winced. "Yes, indeed. Well, I don't know much about it, but maybe the ability to jump from touching lyricism to obscenities so easily is a talent.

Fringilla' he answered after a while. 'You're a woman a man can only dream about. My Fault, my only fault, is that I don't have the nature of a dreamer

In the bathhouse, he was annoyed by the expression of the attendant, looking at his witcher medallion and his sword lying on the edge of the tub. He was annoyed by the fact that the attendant did not offer him a whore. He had no intention of availing himself of one, but in bathhouses everybody was offered them, so he was annoyed by the exception being made for him.

Geralt?' 'Mm?' 'Don't kill it . . . Can you not?' 'A sword is a sword, Dandelion. Once drawn . . . ' 'Please try.' 'I will.

No. I rarely laugh. I really need to have a good reason to laugh.

My mother? No, Calanthe. I presume she had a choice… Or perhaps she didn't? No, but she did; a suitable spell or elixir would have been sufficient… A choice. A choice which should be respected, for it is the holy and irrefutable right of every woman.

No sólo no volveré por estos lares —continuó Geralt pacientemente—, sino que dejaré de actuar del todo como brujo. Nunca más mataré a ninguno de vosotros.

But he suddenly knew the truth. He knew it. He knew what she used to be. What she remembered, what she couldn't forget, what she lived with. Who she really was before she had become a sorceress.

Did you see him there? Frigging knight! See his coat of arms? Ha! Three lions on a shield? Two shitting and the third snarling!

mistook stars reflected in a pond at night for those in the sky.

You don't believe in it, you say. Well you're right, in a way. Only Evil and Greater Evil exist and beyond them, in the shadows, lurks True Evil. True Evil, Geralt, is something you can barely imagine, even if you believe nothing can still surprise you. And sometimes, True Evil seizes you by the throat and demands you choose between it and another, slightly lesser, Evil.

War demands casualties. Peace, it turns out, does too.

Shani smiled even more beautifully and Dandelion was once more filled with the desire to finally compose a ballad about girls like her—not too pretty but nonetheless beautiful, girls of whom one dreams at night when those of classical beauty are forgotten after five minutes.