Shmuel

“Well, that was fun,” Grandpa said as he climbed to his feet. “Anyone dead?”
“Does my pride count?” Draulin asked, dusting herself off.
“I don’t think so,” Grandpa said. “I killed that years ago. Dif, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but shoving my grandson out of planes is usually my job. So next time, kindly refrain until I give the word.”
“Sorry, sir,” Dif said, looking abashed.”
― Brandon Sanderson, The Dark Talent

“wonder why I keep writing these chapter introductions. I spend a lot of time in these stories not actually writing these stories. There must be something to it. Something I don’t want to admit. These are another delay. To keep myself from writing the inevitable. As long as I’m waxing fanciful about bunnies and bazookas, I don’t have to make progress toward the ending. I don’t want to get there. Despite claiming I’m writing these autobiographies to set the story straight, I don’t actually want to do it. Deep down, I’d rather think of myself as a hero. Of course, I’m probably too much of a coward to include this section in the book.”
― Brandon Sanderson, The Dark Talent

“Your father never fit in here either. He never fit in anywhere. It’s part of what I like about him.” Troubled,”
― Brandon Sanderson, The Dark Talent

“All is interrelated, said one. Fire and earth, air and water. All are but one thing, not four, not two, and not three, but one. Where they are not together is only an incomplete piece. A”
― Holly Black, The Bronze Key