“It was never what he had done,but always what he could do. And he had chosen to make his living with something else instead of a pen or a pencil”

“As he thought of it, though, he could not imagine what “just living” might actually be. He had never done it in his life. But he wanted to do it anyway.”

“He knew now, and the knowledge was hard, that his task had never been to undo what he had done, but to finish what he had begun.”

“There was a message written in pencil on the tiles by the roller towel. This was it:What is the purpose of life?Trout plundered his pockets for a pen or pencil. He had an answer to the question. But he had nothing to write with, not even a burnt match. So he left the question unanswered, but here is what he would have written, if he had found anything to write with:To bethe eyesand earsand conscienceof the Creator of the Universe,you fool.”

“Men had always told Kaladin that he fought like nobody else. He’d felt it on the first day he’d picked up a quarterstaff, though Tukks’s advice had helped him refine and channel what he could do. Kaladin had cared when he fought. He’d never fought empty or cold. He fought to keep his men alive.”

“How what she had done could never matter since he knew he could not cure himself of loving her”