Akpevwe > Akpevwe's Quotes

“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“It had flaws, but what does that matter when it comes to matters of the heart? We love what we love. Reason does not enter into it. In many ways, unwise love is the truest love. Anyone can love a thing because. That's as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“I have an apple that thinks its a pear. And a bun that thinks it’s a cat. And a lettuce that thinks its a lettuce."
"It’s a clever lettuce, then."
"Hardly," she said with a delicate snort. "Why would anything clever think it’s 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.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“All the truth in the world is held in stories.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“I know," she said. "You have a stone in your heart, and some days it's so heavy there is nothing to be done. But you don't have to be alone for it. You should have come to me. I understand.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“When you love something, you have to make sure it loves you back, or you'll bring about no end of trouble chasing it.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“Teccam explains there are two types of secrets. There are secrets of the mouth and secrets of the heart.

Most secrets are secrets of the mouth. Gossip shared and small scandals whispered. There secrets long to be let loose upon the world. A secret of the mouth is like a stone in your boot. At first you’re barely aware of it. Then it grows irritating, then intolerable. Secrets of the mouth grow larger the longer you keep them, swelling until they press against your lips. They fight to be let free.

Secrets of the heart are different. They are private and painful, and we want nothing more than to hide them from the world. They do not swell and press against the mouth. They live in the heart, and the longer they are kept, the heavier they become.

Teccam claims it is better to have a mouthful of poison than a secret of the heart. Any fool will spit out poison, he says, but we hoard these painful treasures. We swallow hard against them every day, forcing them deep inside us. They they sit, growing heavier, festering. Given enough time, they cannot help but crush the heart that holds them.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“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 a
pretty 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.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“I walked across the polished marble floor and sat on a red velvet lounging couch. I idly wondered how exactly one was supposed to lounge. I couldn't remember ever doing it myself. After a moment's consideration, I decided lounging was probably similar to relaxing, but with more money in your pocket.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“I can't give you the moon,” the tinker said. “She doesn't belong to me. She belongs only to herself.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“To be both rich and handsome was bad enough. But to have a voice like honey over warm bread on top of that was simply inexcusable.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“All explicit knowledge is translated knowledge, and all translation is imperfect.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“so many thoughts, my kvothe. you know too much to be happy.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“Could you help me catch the moon?”
“I might be able to give you some advice,” the old man said reluctantly. “But first you should think this over, boy. When you love something, you have to make sure it loves you back, or you’ll bring about no end of trouble chasing it.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“How odd to watch a mortal kindle / Then to dwindle day by day / Knowing their bright souls are tinder / And the wind will have its way”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“I want a magical horse that fits in my pocket," Wil said. "And a ring of red amber that gives me power over demons. And an endless supply of cake.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“All I want is someone who likes me."
"All I want is a clear sign," I said.
"All I want is a magical horse that fits in my pocket," Wil said. "And a ring of red amber that gives me power over demons. And an endless supply of cake.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“She has enough men fawning over her," I said. "They come and go like . . ." I strained to think of an analogy and failed. "I’d rather be her friend."

"You would rather be close to her heart," Wilem said without any particular inflection. "You would rather be joyfully held in the circle of her arms. But you fear she will reject you. You fear she would laugh and you would look the fool." Wilem shrugged easily. "You are hardly the first to feel this way. There is no shame in it."

That struck uncomfortably close to the mark, and for a long moment I couldn’t think of anything to say in reply. "I hope," I admitted quietly. "But I don’t want to assume. I’ve seen what happens to the men that assume too much and cling to her.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“A tree doesn't make a thunderstorm, but any fool knows where lightning's going to strike.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“Kvothe looked at Bast for a long moment. “Oh Bast,” he said softly to his student. His smile was gentle and sad. “I know what sort of story I’m telling. This is no comedy.”

“This is the end of the story, Bast. We all know that.” Kvothe’s voice was matter-of-fact, as casual as if he were describing yesterday’s weather. “I have led an interesting life, and this reminiscence has a certain sweetness to it. But . . .”

Kvothe drew a deep breath and let it out gently. “. . . but this is not a dashing romance. This is no fable where folk come back from the dead. It’s not a rousing epic meant to stir the blood. No.
We all know what kind of story this is.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“Old beggars in stories are never really old beggars," Simmon said with a hint of accusation in his voice. "They're always a witch or a prince or an angel or something."

"In real life old beggars are almost always old beggars," I pointed out.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“The world needs people like you,' Simmon said in the tone of voice that let me know he was turning philosophical. 'You get things done. Not always the best way, or the most sensible way, but it gets done nonetheless. You’re a rare creature.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“... How would you open my chest if you had a mind to?"
Bast's expression grew slightly apprehensive. "Your thrice-locked chest, Reshi?"
Kvothe looked at his student, the laughter bubbled up out of him. "My what?" he asked incredulously.
Bast blushed and looked down. "That's just how I think of it," he mumbled.
"As names go..." Kvothe hesitated, a smile playing around his mouth. "Well it's a little storybook, don't you think?"
"You're the one who made the thing, Reshi," Bast said sullenly. "Three locks and fancy wood and all that. It's not my fault if it sounds storybook."
Kvothe leaned forward and rested an apologetic hand on Bast's knee. "It's a fine name, Bast. Just caught me off my guard is all." He leaned back again. "So. How would you attempt to plunder the thrice-locked chest of Kvothe the Bloodless?”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“I wasn't entirely surprised to find Elodin on Stonebridge. Very little about the Master Namer surprised me these days. He sat on the waist-high stone lip of the bridge, swinging his bare feet over the hundred-foot drop to the river below.
"Hello Kvothe," he said without turning his eyes from the churning water.
"Hello, Master Elodin," I said. "I'm afraid I'm going to be leaving the University for a term or two."
"Are you really afraid?" I noticed a whisper of amusement in his quiet, resonant voice.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“I never cared for poetry," I said.
"Your loss," Sim said absently as he turned a few pages. "Eld Vintic poetry's thunderous. It pounds at you."
"What's the meter like?"I asked, curious despite myself.
"I don't know anything about meter," Simmon said distractedly he ran his finger down the page in front of him. "It's like this:

"Sought we the Scrivani word-work of Surthur
Long-lost in ledger all hope forgotten
Yet fast-found for friendship fair the book-bringer
Hot comes the huntress Fela, flushed with finding
Breathless her breast her high blood rising
To ripen the red-cheek rouge-bloom of beauty.

"That sort of thing," Simmon said absently, his eyes still scanning the pages in front of him.
I saw Fela turn her head to look at Simmon, almost as if she were surprised to see him sitting there.
No, it was almost s if up until that point, he'd just been occupying space around her, like a piece of furniture. But this time when she looked at him, she took all of him in. His sandy hair, the line of his jaw, the span of his shoulders beneath his shirt. This time when she looked, she actually *saw* him.
Let me say this. It was worth the whole awful , irritating time spent searching the Archives just to watch that moment happen. It was worth blood and the fear of death to see her fall in love with him. Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love, so light she probably didn't notice it herself. It wasn't dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the spark fades almost fast for you to see. But still, you know it's there, down where you can't see, kindling.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“there was always a part of me that hoped for more, and so there was a part of me that was always a fool.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“What about falling?' I asked. 'If you fall, you fall.' Elodin shrugged. 'Sometimes falling teaches us things too. In dreams you often fall before you wake.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“:She sits by her window.
She sips at her tea.
She waits for her love,
To return from the sea.
Her suitors come calling.
She watches the tides,
And all the while Violet bides.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear