“I once saw a spindly man carrying a stone larger than his head upon his back. He stumbled beneath the weight, shirtless under the sun, wearing only a loincloth. He tottered down a busy thoroughfare. People made way for him. Not because they sympathized with him, but because they feared the momentum of his steps. You dare not impede one such as this. The monarch is like this man, stumbling along, the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. Many give way before him, but so few are willing to step in and help carry the stone. They do not wish to attach themselves to the work, lest they condemn themselves to a life full of extra burdens. I left my carriage that day and took up the stone, lifting it for the man. I believe my guards were embarrassed. One can ignore a poor shirtless wretch doing such labor, but none ignore a king sharing the load. Perhaps we should switch places more often. If a king is seen to assume the burden of the poorest of men, perhaps there will be those who will help him with his own load, so invisible, yet so daunting.”

“Most Christians are like a man who was toiling along the road, bending under a heavy burden, when a wagon overtook him. The driver kindly offered to help him on his journey. He joyfully accepted the offer but, when he was seated, continued to bend beneath his burden, which he still kept on his shoulders. "Why do you not lay down your burden?" asked the kind-hearted driver. "Oh!" replied the man, "I feel that it is almost too much to ask you to carry me, and I could not think of letting you carry my burden too." And so Christian who have given themselves into the care and keeping of the Lord Jesus still continue to bend beneath the weight of their burdens and often go weary and heavy-laden throughout the whole length of their journey.”

“What I'm trying to say is that you don't understand a man until you understand what makes him do what he does. Every man is a hero in his own story, Princess. Murderers don't believe that they're to blame for what they do. Thieves, they think they deserve the money they take. Dictators, they believe they have the right—for the safety of their people and the good of the nation—to do whatever they wish. . . . The truth is, most people who do what you'd call "wrong" do it for what they call "right" reasons. Only mercenaries make any sense. We do what we're paid to do. That's it. Perhaps that's why people look down on us so. We're the only ones who don't pretend to have higher motives. . . In a way, we're the most honest men you'll ever meet.”

“How can you be a lighteyes without light eyes?” Teft said with a scowl.“By having dark eyes,” Rock said, as if it were obvious. “We do not pick our leaders this way. Is complicated. But do not interrupt story.” He milked another reed, tossing the husk into a pile beside him.“The nuatoma, they see our lack of Shards as great shame. They want these weapons very badly. It is believed that the nuatoma who first obtains a Shardblade would become king, a thing we have not had for many years. No peak would fight another peak where a man held one of the blessed Blades.”“So you came to buy one?” Kaladin asked. No Shardbearer would sell his weapon. Each was adistinctive relic, taken from one of the Lost Radiants after their betrayal.Rock laughed. “Ha! Buy? No, we are not so foolish as this. But my nuatoma, he knew of your tradition, eh? It says that if a man kills a Shardbearer, he may take the Blade and Plate as his own. Andso my nuatoma and his house, we made a grand procession, coming down to find and kill one of your Shardbearers.”Kaladin almost laughed. “I assume it proved more difficult than that.”“My nuatoma was not a fool,” Rock said, defensive. “He knew this thing would be difficult, but your tradition, it gives us hope, you see? Occasionally, a brave nuatoma will come down to duel aShardbearer. Someday, one will win, and we will have Shards.”

“A man can only lead when others accept him as their leader, and he has only as much authority as his subjects give to him. All of the brilliant ideas in the world cannot save your kingdom if no one will listen to them.”

“...A man can only stumble for so long before he either falls or stands up straight.”

“I want you to tell meabout the Survivor," he finally said."He was lord of the mists," Demoux said immediately."Not the rhetoric," Elend said. "Someone tell me about the man, Kelsier. I never met him, you know. Isaw him once, right before he died, but I never knew him.""What's the point?" Cett asked. "We've all heard the stories. He's practically a god, if you listen to theskaa.""Just do as I ask," Elend said.The tent was still for a few moments. Finally, Ham spoke. "Kell was . . . grand. He wasn't just a man,he was bigger than that. Everything he did was large—his dreams, the way he spoke, the way he thought.. . .""And it wasn't false," Breeze added. "I can tell when a man is being a fake. That's why I started myfirst job with Kelsier, actually. Amidst all the pretenders and posturers, he was genuine. Everyone wantedto be the best. Kelsier really was.""He was a man," Vin said quietly. "Just a man. Yet, you always knew he'd succeed. He made you bewhat he wanted you to be.""So he could use you," Breeze said."But you were better when he was done with you," Ham added”