“Where is the library?”
“Turn right, proceed thirty-four paces, turn right again, twelve paces, then through door on the right, thirty-five paces, through archway on right another eleven paces, turn right one last time, fifteen paces, enter the door on the right.”
Mappo stared at Iskaral Pust.
The High Priest shifted nervously.
“Or,” the Trell said, eyes narrowed, “turn left, nineteen paces.”
“Aye,” Iskaral muttered.”
― Deadhouse Gates
“Turn right, proceed thirty-four paces, turn right again, twelve paces, then through door on the right, thirty-five paces, through archway on right another eleven paces, turn right one last time, fifteen paces, enter the door on the right.”
Mappo stared at Iskaral Pust.
The High Priest shifted nervously.
“Or,” the Trell said, eyes narrowed, “turn left, nineteen paces.”
“Aye,” Iskaral muttered.”
― Deadhouse Gates
“My flesh is stone. My blood rages hot as molten iron. I have a thousand eyes. A thousand swords. And one mind.
I have heard the death-cry. Was she kin? She said as much, when first she touched me. We were upon the ground. Far from each other, and yet of a kind.
I heard her die.
And so I came to mourn her, I came to find her body, her silent tomb.
But she dies still. I do not understand. She dies still—and there are strangers. Cruel strangers. I knew them once. I know them now. I know, too, that they will not yield.
Who am I?
What am I?
But I know the answers to these questions. I believe, at last, that I do.
Strangers, you bring pain. You bring suffering. You bring to so many dreams the dust of death.
But, strangers, I am Icarium.
And I bring far worse.”
― Dust of Dreams
I have heard the death-cry. Was she kin? She said as much, when first she touched me. We were upon the ground. Far from each other, and yet of a kind.
I heard her die.
And so I came to mourn her, I came to find her body, her silent tomb.
But she dies still. I do not understand. She dies still—and there are strangers. Cruel strangers. I knew them once. I know them now. I know, too, that they will not yield.
Who am I?
What am I?
But I know the answers to these questions. I believe, at last, that I do.
Strangers, you bring pain. You bring suffering. You bring to so many dreams the dust of death.
But, strangers, I am Icarium.
And I bring far worse.”
― Dust of Dreams
“Now, invite me in, before I lose my temperature.’
‘Temper, you mean.’
‘No, temperature. It’s getting chilly.”
― Toll the Hounds
‘Temper, you mean.’
‘No, temperature. It’s getting chilly.”
― Toll the Hounds
“Someone coughed nearby, from some huddle of stones, and then spoke. ‘So, who are we fighting for again?’
Fiddler could not place the voice.
Nor the one that replied, ‘Everyone.’
A long pause, and then, ‘No wonder we’re losing.”
― The Crippled God
Fiddler could not place the voice.
Nor the one that replied, ‘Everyone.’
A long pause, and then, ‘No wonder we’re losing.”
― The Crippled God
PatChat
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Book recommendations from Patrick Rothfuss's twitch chat and/or Discord. On the book shelves, click the small "about" link to see why it was added :) ...more
The Little Fairleaf (Audio Book) GIVEAWAY
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— last activity Jul 24, 2022 03:10AM
Hi everyone, I am giving away The Little Fairleaf audiobook to anyone who downloads my latest short story, The Other Fairleaf. It is narrated by awa ...more
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