Caleb Alred

“You are an educated man. You know there are no such things as demons." Bast smiled a terrible smile. "There is only my kind." Bast leaned closer still, Chronicler smelled flowers on his breath. "You are not wise enough to fear me as I should be feared. You do not know the first note of the music that moves me.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

“I wanted to tell her that she was the first beautiful thing I had seen in three years. That the sight of her yawning to the back of her hand was enought to drive the breath from me. How I sometimes lost the sense of her words in the sweet fluting of her voice. I wanted to say that if she were with me then somehow nothing could ever be wrong for me again.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

“Elodin proved a difficult man to find. He had an office in Hollows, but never seemed to use it. When I visited Ledgers and Lists, I discovered he only taught one class: Unlikely Maths. However, this was less than helpful in tracking him down, as according to the ledger, the time of the class was 'now' and the location was 'everywhere.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

“If you are eager to find the reason I became the Kvothe they tell stories about, you could look there, I suppose."
Chronicler's forehead wrinkled. "What do you mean, exactly?"
Kvothe paused for a long moment, looking down at his hands. "Do you know how many times I've been beaten over the course of my life?"
Chronicler shook his head.
Looking up, Kvothe grinned and tossed his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "Neither do I. You'd think that sort of thing would stick in a person's mind. You'd think I would remember how many bones I've had broken. You'd think I'd remember the stitches and bandages." He shook his head. "I don't. I remember that young boy sobbing in the dark. Clear as a bell after all these years."
Chronicler frowned. "You said yourself that there was nothing you could have done."
"I could have," Kvothe said seriously, "and I didn't. I made my choice and I regret it to this day. Bones mend. Regret stays with you forever.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind