Quotes About Patrick Rothfuss

What? No defense? Any student of mine must be able to defend his ideas against an attack. No matter how you spend your life, your wit will defend you more often than a sword. Keep it sharp!

The myth of writer as, like, Asperger-style misanthrope, or, like, the Jack Nicholson, 'As Good As It Gets' - it just doesn't work, because writers, in order to write good characters, need to understand people. You need to understand your audience. You need to have so much empathy you could almost encourage empathy in others.

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.

Patrick Rothfuss gives us a fabulous debut, standing firmly on the main stage of the fantasy genre and needing no warm-up act. Jordan and Goodkind must be looking nervously over their shoulders!

Humor is important. If you're going to tell any sort of realistic story, you're going to have to have humor in it, because people are funny. Clever people especially.

Ambrose, your presence is the horseshit frosting on the horseshit cake that is the admissions interview process.

I'd heard he had started a fistfight in one of the seedier local taverns because someone had insisted on saying the word "utilize" instead of "use.

Some of my Arcanum bunkmates taught me a card game called dogs-breath. I returned the favor by giving an impromptu lesson in psychology, probability, and manual dexterity. I won almost two whole talents before they stopped inviting me back to their games.

With his eyes and those hands there won't be a woman safe in all the world when he starts hunting after the ladies.' 'Courting, dear,' my father corrected gently. 'Semantics,' she shrugged.

unwise love is the truest love. Anyone can love a thing because. That's as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.

Damn chicken. Come eat your dinner. I'm cold.

Auri," I asked slowly, "are you joking with me?" She looked up and grinned. "Yes I am," she said proudly. "Isn't it wonderful?

That's one of the best things about horror movies – they're not real life. They're like emotional cardio. They give us the chance to be terrified in a consequence-free environment. That's the joy of all fiction, really: you get the benefit of experiencing something without the burden of having to actually experience it.

Aethe, near my heart. Without vanity, the ribbon. Without duty, the wind. Without blood, the victory.

She washed he hands,then looked at my side. "you haven't even had it stitched?" She said incredulously. "I've been rather busy," I said. "With the running like hell and hiding all night.

I...flipped open the lid, thinking my lute might enjoy the feel of a little sun on its strings. If you aren't a musician, I don't expect you to understand.

What is the purpose of the Lethani?" Tempi asked. "To give us a path to follow?" I replied. "No," Tempi said sternly. "The Lethani is not a path." "What is the purpose of the Lethani, Tempi?" "To guide us in our actions. By following the Lethani, you act rightly," "Is this not a path?" "No. The Lethani is what help us choose a path.

Beer dulls a memory, brand sets it burning, but wine is the best for a sore heart's yearning.

Just pity him, my boy. Tomorrow we'll be on our way, but he'll have to keep his own disagreeable company until the day he dies.

Lord but I dislike poetry. How can anyone remember words that aren't put to music?

Felurian had a way of making requests that took some getting used to. I'd discovered that unless I was steeling myself to resist, I'd find myself automatically doing whatever it was she asked of me. It wasn't that she spoke with authority. Her voice was too soft and edgeless to carry the weight of command. She did not demand or cajole. When she spoke, it was matter-of-fact. As if she couldn't imagine a world in which you

Bast looked down at the two men. After a moment he began to laugh too. It was a terrible sound, jagged and joyless. It was no human laugh.

Three circles. Perfect for asking. It was better to be gentle and polite. It was the worst sort of selfishness to force yourself upon the world.

A bristling fox is better than a deranged, half-shod idiot.