“To believe, it seemed, one had to want to believe.”

I don’t have much time for stories,” Vin said. “Seems that fewer and fewer people do, these days.” A canopy kept off the ash, but he seemed unconcerned about the mists. “It makes me wonder what is so alluring about the real world that gives them all such a fetish for it. It’s not a very nice place these days.

A man was defined not by his flaws, but by how he overcame them.

There is no power on earth that can neutralize the influence of a high, simple and useful life.

We are not creatures of destinations. It is the journey that shapes us. Our callused feet, our backs strong from carrying the weight of our travels, our eyes open with the fresh delight of experiences lived.

Those books are invariably described as “important”- which in my experience, pretty much means that they’re boring. (words like meaningful and thoughtful are other good clues.)

Elend started. “Vin!” Then, he smiled. “What took you so long?” “I got delayed by an Inquistor and a dark god,” she said. “Now hustle.

A mate of mine has just told me he’s shagging his girlfriend and her twin, I said how can you tell them apart, he said “her brothers got a moustache!”

More fun than a frog in a glass of milk.

Life before Death. Strength before Weakness. Journey before Destination.

I might really have gone round the bend. I mean people who get visions and see a gigantic light descend on them from the sky can’t be all there but if so I feel mighty happy. If one is happy and cracked it’s much better than being unhappy and sane.

Perhaps another person, reading of my life, would name me a religious tyrant. He could call me arrogant. What is to make that man’s opinion any less valid than my own? I guess it all comes down to one fact: In the end, I’m the one with the armies.

What is it we value? Innovation. Originality. Novelty. But most importantly…timeliness. I fear you may be too late, my confused, unfortunate, friend.

This makes readers feel hurt and worried for the characters. The simple truth is that authors like making people squirm. If this weren’t the case, all novels would be filled completely with cute bunnies having birthday parties.

In the end, I worry that my arrogance shall destroy us all.

The man who spent his youth being shoved around, however … When that man gets a little power and authority, he often uses it to become a tyrant on par with the worst warlords in history.

That hat looks ridiculous.” “Fortunately, I can change hats,” Wayne said, “while you, sir, are stuck with that face.