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The Name of the Wind
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by Patrick Rothfuss (Goodreads Author)
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May 06, 2026 06:18AM

 
The King in Yellow
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See all 4 books that Cole is reading…
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Sally Rooney
“But what would it be like to form a relationship with no preordained shape of any kind? Just to pour the water out and let it fall. I suppose it would take no shape, and run off in all directions”
Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

Rick Rubin
“Flaws are human, and the attraction of art is the humanity held in it. If we were machinelike, the art wouldn’t resonate. It would be soulless. With life comes pain, insecurity, and fear. We’re all different and we’re all imperfect, and the imperfections are what makes each of us and our work interesting. We create pieces reflective of who we are, and if insecurity is part of who we are, then our work will have a greater degree of truth in it as a result. The making of art is not a competitive act. Our work is representative of the self. You would be amiss to say, “I’m not up to the challenge.” Yes, you may need to deepen your craft to fully realize your vision. If you’re not up to it, no one else can do it. Only you can. You’re the only one with your voice.”
Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being

Sally Rooney
“It’s not the life I used to imagine for myself either. But it’s the life I have, the only one.”
Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

Sally Rooney
“I just want everything to be like it was," Eileen said. "And for us to be young again and live near each other, and nothing to be different."

Alice was smiling sadly. "But if things are different, can we still be friends?”
Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

R.F. Kuang
“Trying, he thought, to express some unutterable truth about themselves. Which was that translation was impossible. That the realm of pure meaning they captured and manifested would and could not ever be known. That the enterprise of this tower had been impossible from inception. For how could there ever be an Adamic language? The thought now made him laugh. There was no innate, perfectly comprehensible language. There was no candidate - not English, not French - that could bully and absorb enough to become one. Language was just difference. A thousand different ways of seeing, of moving through the world. No, a thousand worlds within one. And translation, a necessary endeavor however futile, to move between them.”
R.F. Kuang, Babel

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