Quotes from Brandon Sanderson

Spensa," M-Bot said, hovering along beside me, "I am not enthused by my first experiments in self-determination. My chronometer details that since my awakening, I've spent a frightening amount of my time lost, pouting, or being chased by interdimensional monsters.

I'm a thief, not a prophet. Sometimes, we just have to be what the job requires.

Unfortunately, Alanik, the game takes no care for your interest. It plays you either way

Oh, blessed Domi!" the Aon exclaimed, approaching quickly. "Ashe!" she said, wiping her eyes with a quivering hand, numbed by shock. "You never use the Lord's name!" "If He has brought me to you, then He has His first Seon convert," Ashe said, pulsing excitedly.

It had been like discovering that Santa Claus was secretly a Nazi.

Deal with your own stupid planet, you idiot. Don't make me come over there and slap you around again.

It made my eyes make my brain think it forgot to wake up.

Dalinar forced himself to be calm. "Roion, we cannot continue to treat this war as a game." "All wars are games. The greatest kind, with the pieces lost real lives, the prizes captured making for real wealth! This is the life for which men exist. To fight, to kill, to win.

Yes, there are worse places, but so long as this hellhole is considered the ideal, we'll never get anywhere. We cannot let them convince us this is normal!

Ten years was not enough. Stone should not crumble after just a decade of neglect. The filth should not have piled up so quickly—not with so few inhabitants, most of whom were incapacitated. It was as if Elantris were intent on dying, a city committing suicide.

You couldn't live your life getting up and seeing the same things every day. You had to keep moving, otherwise people started to know who you were, and then they started to expect things from you. It was one step from there to being gobbled up.

Love must be allowed to flow both ways—if it is not, then it is not truly love, I think. It is something else. Infatuation, perhaps? Either way, there are some of us who are far too quick to make martyrs of ourselves. We stand at the side, watching, thinking that we do the right thing by inaction. We fear pain—our own, or that of another." He

You could not kill the wind. You could not stop it. It was beyond the touch of men. It was infinite...

Nothing else dangerous we could find. Other than Wayne's body odor." "That's the smell of incredibleness," Wayne called from inside.

If anyone would be able to go about intimidating forces of nature, it would be you.

If you knew the history of that flute, it would make your brain flip upside-down. And by that, I mean that I would shove you off the carriage for having spied on me.

Cadsuane, do you believe that I could kill you? Right here, right now, without using a sword or the Power? Do you believe that if I simply willed it, the Pattern would bend around me and stop your heart? By . . . coincidence?

He gritted his teeth, frustrated with himself, but there was nothing he could do about years past. Perhaps he could change the future.

But here's the thing. The lies we tell, the dreams we create, they're not real. We can't let them be real. This might be the hardest lesson you have to learn.

You should never debate an idiot, Shallan. No more than you'd use your best sword to spread butter.

I'm not some tortured, abandoned creature, Wayne," Marasi said, finding herself smiling at her distorted reflection in a ladle. "I'm not sitting around pining and dreaming for someone else to decide if I should be happy. There's nothing there. Whether that's due to actual lack of affection on his part, or more to stubbornness, I don't care. I've moved on.

You can't stop a storm by blowing harder. You can't save men by killing others. We should all become surgeons. Every last one of us….

No job security," Denth said, leaning back in his chair. "The kinds of things we do, they tend to be dangerous and unpredictable. Our employers have a habit of dying off on us." "Though usually not from the chills," Tonk Fah noted. "Swords tend to be the method of choice.

El propósito del cuentacuentos no es decirte cómo pensar, sino plantearte dudas que te hagan reflexionar. Demasiado a menudo, lo olvidamos. -Hoid-