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Nathan Musser
is currently reading
by John Milton
bookshelves:
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Reading for the 2nd time
read in June 2020
“Doctrine? Is that some kind of Pokémon?' - Joel Osteen”
― How to Be a Perfect Christian: Your Comprehensive Guide to Flawless Spiritual Living
― How to Be a Perfect Christian: Your Comprehensive Guide to Flawless Spiritual Living
“Among them is a renegade king, he who sired five royal heirs without ever unzipping his pants. A man to whom time has imparted great wisdom and an even greater waistline, whose thoughtless courage is rivalled only by his unquenchable thirst.
At his shoulder walks a sorcerer, a cosmic conversationalist. Enemy of the incurable rot, absent chairman of combustive sciences at the university in Oddsford, and the only living soul above the age of eight to believe in owlbears.
Look here at a warrior born, a scion of power and poverty whose purpose is manifold: to shatter shackles, to murder monarchs, and to demonstrate that even the forces of good must sometimes enlist the service of big, bad motherfuckers. His is an ancient soul destined to die young.
And now comes the quiet one, the gentle giant, he who fights his battles with a shield. Stout as the tree that counts its age in aeons, constant as the star that marks true north and shines most brightly on the darkest nights.
A step ahead of these four: our hero. He is the candle burnt down to the stump, the cutting blade grown dull with overuse. But see now the spark in his stride. Behold the glint of steel in his gaze. Who dares to stand between a man such as this and that which he holds dear? He will kill, if he must, to protect it. He will die, if that is what it takes.
“Go get the boss,” says one guardsman to another. “This bunch looks like trouble.”
And they do. They do look like trouble, at least until the wizard trips on the hem of his robe. He stumbles, cursing, and fouls the steps of the others as he falls face-first onto the mud-slick hillside.”
― Kings of the Wyld
At his shoulder walks a sorcerer, a cosmic conversationalist. Enemy of the incurable rot, absent chairman of combustive sciences at the university in Oddsford, and the only living soul above the age of eight to believe in owlbears.
Look here at a warrior born, a scion of power and poverty whose purpose is manifold: to shatter shackles, to murder monarchs, and to demonstrate that even the forces of good must sometimes enlist the service of big, bad motherfuckers. His is an ancient soul destined to die young.
And now comes the quiet one, the gentle giant, he who fights his battles with a shield. Stout as the tree that counts its age in aeons, constant as the star that marks true north and shines most brightly on the darkest nights.
A step ahead of these four: our hero. He is the candle burnt down to the stump, the cutting blade grown dull with overuse. But see now the spark in his stride. Behold the glint of steel in his gaze. Who dares to stand between a man such as this and that which he holds dear? He will kill, if he must, to protect it. He will die, if that is what it takes.
“Go get the boss,” says one guardsman to another. “This bunch looks like trouble.”
And they do. They do look like trouble, at least until the wizard trips on the hem of his robe. He stumbles, cursing, and fouls the steps of the others as he falls face-first onto the mud-slick hillside.”
― Kings of the Wyld
“Loch swore, dove for her sword, and came up between the Voyants and the creatures. "Kail! You ready to make amends?"
Behind her, there was another cough, and then, weakly, "Do they have mothers?”
― The Palace Job
Behind her, there was another cough, and then, weakly, "Do they have mothers?”
― The Palace Job
“We believe freedom is built upon the twin notions that God created every human in His image, and that human beings are capable of investigating and exploring God’s world. Those notions were born in Jerusalem and Athens, respectively.”
― The Right Side of History: How Reason and Moral Purpose Made the West Great
― The Right Side of History: How Reason and Moral Purpose Made the West Great
“She pulled her blanket around her. “My fatal flaw. That’s what the Sirens showed me. My fatal flaw is hubris.” I blinked. “That brown stuff they spread on veggie sandwiches?” She rolled her eyes. “No, Seaweed Brain. That’s hummus. Hubris is worse.” “What could be worse than hummus?”
― The Sea of Monsters
― The Sea of Monsters
Nathan’s 2025 Year in Books
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