Patrick Rothfuss

“It's a horrible thing to have your body fail you. You never think about it when you're young.”

“I would have chatted with Tempi, but trying to have a conversation with him was like playing catch with a well.”

“I tend to think too much, Bast. My greatest successes came from decisions I made when I stopped thinking and simply did what felt right. Even if there was no good explanation for what I did." He smiled wistfully. "Even if there were very good reasons for me not to do what I did."Bast ran a hand along the side of his face. "So you're trying to avoid second-guessing yourself?"Kote hesitated. "You could say that," he admitted. "I could say that, Reshi," Bast said smugly. "You, on the other hand, would complicate things needlessly.”

“La música siempre ha sido el mejor remedio para mis bajones de ánimo”

“El hábito no hace al monje, pero si quieres interpretar un papel, necesitas el disfraz adecuado.”

“Existe una forma específica de pensar llamada Alar —explicó Wilem—. Crees en algo con tanta fuerza que sucede”

“Me di la vuelta, mientras se me pintaba una sonrisa en la cara. Siempre me pasaba lo mismo: solo la encontraba cuando había abandonado toda esperanza”

“No me importaba lo que creyera el resto de la gente. Yo sabía la verdad, y no soy de los que se rinden fácilmente.”

“El deseo de conocimiento forma al hombre”

“¿Por qué no lo haces y punto, en lugar de hacer todo lo posible por intentarlo?”

“Hacía avanzar la canción despacio, pero no pesadamente. La tocaba con la lentitud de un beso lujurioso. Y no es que en esa época de mi vida yo supiera mucho de besos. Pero viéndola allí de pie, con los brazos alrededor del arpa, concentrada, con los ojos entrecerrados y los labios ligeramente fruncidos, supe que quería que algún día me besaran con ese cuidado lento y deliberado.”

“— No fue solo culpa mía —puntualicé.—No se trata de ser o no culpable —razonó Manet—. Un árbol no provoca una tormenta, pero cualquier idiota sabe dónde va a caer el rayo.”

“—Eso no suena nada sospechoso —dijo—. ¡Y luego te preguntas por qué la gente habla de ti!—No me pregunto por qué hablan —dije—. Me pregunto qué dicen.”

“¿Están las cosas tan mal como parece? ¿O me he vuelto viejo, como mi padre, y a todo le encuentro un sabor amargo comparado con cuando era niño?”

“La muerte era como un vecino desagradable: no hablabas de él por temor a que te oyera y decidiera pasar a hacerte una visita.”

“...If there's one thing I'm well versed in it's my own good qualities.”

“Absence feeds affection.”

“Music explains itself...It is the road and it is the map that shows the road. It is both together.”

“Cuando quieres algo, tienes que asegurarte de que eso te quiere a ti, porque si no, pasarás muchos apuros persiguiéndolo.”

“Me parece a mí que uno necesita algo para ser feliz, y yo no tengo nada.”

“Por muy atractiva que parezca una cosa, tienes que valorar los riesgos que corres. Cuánto lo deseas, cuánto estás dispuesto a quemarte.”

“No hay nada en el mundo más difícil que convencer a alguien de una verdad desconocida.”

“Evoqué su olor, la curva de su cuello cerca de la oreja, cómo movía las manos cuando hablaba. Me pregunté dónde estaría esa noche, si se encontraba bien. Me pregunté, de pasada, si sus pensamientos también volaban a veces hacia mí convertidos en tiernas reflexiones...”

“-Pero tú no entras en el trato -dijo casi con fiereza-. Tú eres mío. Solo mío. No tengo intención de compartirte.”

“Los secretos del corazón son diferentes. Son íntimos y dolorosos, y queremos, ante todo, escondérselos al mundo. No se hinchan ni presionan buscando una salida. Moran en el corazón, y cuanto más se los guarda, más pesados se vuelven.”

“Has deducido una verdad universal: la realidad suele ser injusta.”

“Te mentiría. Vale la pena mentir por ti. Pero no te mentiría. También vale la pena decir la verdad por ti.”

“Hay un montón de hombres que no se proponen otra cosa que tumbarme. Y solo hay uno que intenta todo lo contrario. Asegurarse de que tengo los pies firmes en el suelo, para que no me caiga.”

“Siempre he preferido las noches sin luna. A oscuras es más fácil hablar. Es más fácil ser uno mismo.”

“Yo siempre sería la persona a la que ella podía acudir sin temor a recriminaciones ni preguntas. Así que no intentaba conquistarla y me contentaba con jugar una hermosa partida. Pero siempre había una parte de mí que deseaba algo más, y por tanto siempre había una parte de mí que deliraba.”

“-Esa ha sido siempre mi gran esperanza -Denna sonrió, y me dio un vuelco el corazón.-Mantenla. -Deslizó un brazo en la curva del mío y echó a andar a mi lado-. Porque sin esperanza, ¿qué nos queda?”

“Pero creo que no me amaba, porque me atrapó con una sonrisa adorable y luego desapareció sin decir palabra. Como el rocío bajo la débil luz del amanecer.-Como un sueño al despertar -añadió Denna con una sonrisa.-Como una doncella feérica deslizándose entre los árboles.”

“Aún notaba el temblor de su corazón, como un pájaro enjaulado batiendo las alas contra mi pecho.”

“La abracé y apoyé la mejilla contra su oreja. Encajábamos como dos bailarines, como si hubiéramos practicado aquel abrazo un millar de veces.”

“La cautela es siempre la herramienta de la sabiduría.”

“I scowled as loudly as I could.”

“Once upon a time,” I began. “There was a little boy born in a little town. He was perfect, or so his mother thought. But one thing was different about him. He had a gold screw in his belly button. Just the head of it peeping out.“Now his mother was simply glad he had all his fingers and toes to count with. But as the boy grew up he realized not everyone had screws in their belly buttons, let alone gold ones. He asked his mother what it was for, but she didn’t know. Next he asked his father, but his father didn’t know. He asked his grandparents, but they didn’t know either.“That settled it for a while, but it kept nagging him. Finally, when he was old enough, he packed a bag and set out, hoping he could find someone who knew the truth of it.“He went from place to place, asking everyone who claimed to know something about anything. He asked midwives and physickers, but they couldn’t make heads or tails of it. The boy asked arcanists, tinkers, and old hermits living in the woods, but no one had ever seen anything like it.“He went to ask the Cealdim merchants, thinking if anyone would know about gold, it would be them. But the Cealdim merchants didn’t know. He went to the arcanists at the University, thinking if anyone would know about screws and their workings, they would. But the arcanists didn’t know. The boy followed the road over the Stormwal to ask the witch women of the Tahl, but none of them could give him an answer.“Eventually he went to the King of Vint, the richest king in the world. But the king didn’t know. He went to the Emperor of Atur, but even with all his power, the emperor didn’t know. He went to each of the small kingdoms, one by one, but no one could tell him anything.“Finally the boy went to the High King of Modeg, the wisest of all the kings in the world. The high king looked closely at the head of the golden screw peeping from the boy’s belly button. Then the high king made a gesture, and his seneschal brought out a pillow of golden silk. On that pillow was a golden box. The high king took a golden key from around his neck, opened the box, and inside was a golden screwdriver.“The high king took the screwdriver and motioned the boy to come closer. Trembling with excitement, the boy did. Then the high king took the golden screwdriver and put it in the boy’s belly button.”I paused to take a long drink of water. I could feel my small audience leaning toward me. “Then thehigh king carefully turned the golden screw. Once: Nothing. Twice: Nothing. Then he turned it the third time, and the boy’s ass fell off.”There was a moment of stunned silence.“What?” Hespe asked incredulously.“His ass fell off.”

“Yes. Weary.” He eyed me speculatively, smoothing his beard with a hand. “You have a gift for words.It’s one of the reasons you ended up with Elodin, I expect.”I didn’t say anything to that. I must have said it quite loudly too, because Dal gave me a curious look.“How are your studies progressing with Elodin?” he asked casually.”

“- What's in the water?- Flowers and the part of the moon that isn't in the sky tonight.”

“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.”

“The wild women in his lap,' my father enthused, 'laying their breasts on his head.'There was a moment of stunned silence. Then my mother spoke slowly, with an edge to her voice. 'I think you mean "wild beasts laying their heads in his lap".''Do I?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Chronicler snapped. "You're just spouting nonsense now.""I'm spouting too much sense for you to understand," Bast said testily.”

“Simmon pushed his hair out of his eyes, laughing boyishly. "You can't argue your way out of this one! She's obviously stupid for you. And you're just plain stupid, so it's a great match.”

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

“Are you hurt?""Absolutely," I said. "Especially in my everywhere.”

“Over the last month I had pulled a woman from a blazing inferno. I had called fire and lighting down on assassins and escaped to safety. I had even killed something that could have been either a dragon or a demon, depending on your point of view. But there in that room was the first time I actually felt like any sort of hero. If you are looking for a reason for the man I would eventually become, if you are looking for a beginning, look there.”

“Isn't that the way of the world? We want the sweet things, but we need the unpleasant ones.”

“Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made.”

“With slow care rather than stealth we must approach the subject of a certain woman. Her wildness is of such degree, I fear approaching her too quickly even in a story. Should I move recklessly, I might startle even the idea of her into sudden flight.”

“The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.”