“I don't think of love in terms of relationships. It happens in terms of seconds, but it goes away like that, too. I pass a nurse, I love her, it ends when I go around a corner; at a restaurant I see a forlorn man at the table next to me, and I love him, and the conversation pulls me back, and it's ended. A patient comes in, and she is sick, and I love her, and then she dies, and I never see her again. This is what I live for. Don't think that it's sad.”

“I say, "My trigger is everything in the universe."Everyone laughs.I stare back at them, one by one. I hate it when I make people laugh. It's unintentional. I don't joke. To clear this up, I stare at Dr. Billy for a long time. Yes, like a threat."I know we sometimes feel that way," says Dr. Billy, after absorbing my look with his fat face. "Of course. But part of the exercise is to hone it down and get more specific.""No," I say. "I'm being specific when I say that. Everything that exists, now, makes me angry. all. I don't know any other way to say it. all." I nod the last time I say "all"; I'm getting somewhere.”

“Nobody, anywhere, has any real sense what is actually going on." This doesn't seem to get a very good reaction from the crowd - no doubt I'm scowling as I say it, but still. I continue: "I don't either, but at least I know I don't. I'm sorry but you people aren't like me." This is me trying to take the edge off. Being friendly. "You haven't done the shit I've done.”

“She tried to kill you, Viola. She tried to blow you up... You don't owe her nothing,' he says.But I feel his arms on me and I'm realizing things don't seem so impossible anymore. I feel Todd touching me and there's anger rising in my gut but it's not at him and I grunt and I pull myself up again, leaning on him to keep me there as I stand. 'I do owe her,' I say. 'I owe her the look on her face when she sees me alive.”

“Todd!” she says again but this time in a way that asks me to look at her and I do and she stops Angharrad at the edge of the square and she’s looking at me, looking right into my eyes–And I read her–And I know exactly what she’s thinking–And my Noise and my heart and my head fill up fit to burst, fill up like I’m gonna explode–Cuz she’s saying–She’s saying with her eyes and her face and her whole self–“I know,” I say back to her, my voice husky. “Me, too.”And then I turn to the Mayor and I’m filled with her, with her love for me and my love for her–And it makes me big as an effing mountain–And I take it and I slam all of it into the Mayor–”

“Here's what I think," I say and my voice is stronger and thoughts are coming, thoughts that trickle into my noise like whispers of truth. "I think maybe everybody falls," I say. "I think maybe we all do. And I don't think that's the asking." I pull on her arms gently to make sure she's listening."I think the asking is whether we get back up again.”

“Auri hopped down from the chimney and skipped over to where I stood, her hair streaming behind her. "Hello Kvothe." She took a half-step back. "You reek."I smiled my best smile of the day. "Hello Auri," I said. "You smell like apretty young girl.""I do," she agreed happily.She stepped sideways a little, then forward again, moving lightly on the balls of her bare feet. "What did you bring me?" she asked."What did you bring me?" I countered.She grinned. "I have an apple that thinks it is a pear," she said, holding it up. "And a bun that thinks it is a cat. And a lettuce that thinks it is a lettuce.""It's a clever lettuce then.""Hardly," she said with a delicate snort. "Why would anything clever think it was a lettuce?""Even if it is a lettuce?" I asked."Especially then," she said. "Bad enough to be a lettuce. How awful to think you are a lettuce too." She shook her head sadly, her hair following the motion as if she were underwater.I unwrapped my bundle. "I brought you some potatoes, half a squash,and a bottle of beer that thinks it is a loaf of bread.""What does the squash think it is?" she asked curiously, looking down at it. She held her hands clasped behind her back"It knows it's a squash," I said. "But it's pretending to be the setting sun.""And the potatoes?" she asked."They're sleeping," I said. "And cold, I'm afraid."She looked up at me, her eyes gentle. "Don't be afraid," she said, and reached out and rested her fingers on my cheek for the space of a heartbeat, her touch lighter than the stroke of a feather. "I'm here. You're safe.”