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.
There was rarely an obvious branching point in a person’s life. People changed slowly, over time. You didn’t take on step, then find yourself in a completely new location.
Ruin still used Reen’s voice-it was familiar, something that had always seemed a part of her. Discovering that it belonged to that thing…it was like finding out that her reflection really belonged to someone else, and that she’d never actually seen herself.
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.
They tried boiling books, but that didn’t work very well.” “I’m surprised they haven’t tried boiling one another.” “Oh, it’s been tried,” Galladon said. “Fortunately. something happens to us during the Shaod-apparently the flesh of a dead man doesn’t taste too good. Kolo?
Think of the possibilities–if the ash were red, the rivers would run like blood. Black is so monotonous that you can forget about it, but red–you’d always be thinking, ‘Why, look at that. That hill is red. That evil force of doom trying to destroy me certainly has style.
Yet she was beginning to think that she– along with others– had taken this belief too far, letting her desire to seem humble become a form of pride itself. She now saw that when her faith had become about clothing instead of people, it had taken a wrong turn.
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.
