We die a little every day and by degrees we’re reborn into different men, older men in the same clothes, with the same scars.
There is no sound more annoying than the chatter of a child, and none more sad than the silence they leave when they are gone.
Memory is all we are. Moments and feelings, captured in amber, strung on filaments of reason. Take a man’s memories and you take all of him. Chip away a memory at a time and you destroy him as surely as if you hammered nail after nail through his skull.
I've always seen 'no' as a challenge rather than an answer.
We’re built of contradictions, all of us. It’s those opposing forces that give us strength, like an arch, each block pressing the next. Give me a man whose parts are all aligned in agreement and I’ll show you madness. We walk a narrow path, insanity to each side. A man without contradictions to balance him will soon veer off.
Makin once told me that a man who's got no fear is missing a friend.
They shot my idiot
Some men name their swords. I've always found that a strange affection. If I had to call it something I would all it "Sharp.
A fool may scrawl on a slate and if no one has the wit to wipe it clean for a thousand years, the scrawl becomes the wisdom of ages.
Sometime, it's easier to love someone with flaws you can forgive in return for them forgiving yours.
In battle though his hands grow clever, and you'd think him whole, until the din fades, the dying fall, and Maical wanders the fields weeping.
If the sins of the flesh ever got old I didn't ever want enough years on me to know it.
Some pain you can distance yourself from, but a headache sits right where you live.
Beside me Makin looked to have retreated into that closed and lonely place that we all reach if we keep digging. Dig a little deeper than that and you're in hell of a sudden.
The bladder-pipe, a local Highlands speciality, is to music what warthogs are to mathematics. Largely unconnected.
When a game cannot be won, change the game.
When pain bites, men bargain. Boys too. We twist and turn, we plead and beg, we offer our tormentor what he wants so that the hurting will stop. And when there is no torturer to placate, no hooded man with hot irons and tongs, just a burn you can't escape, we bargain with God, or ourselves, depending on the size of our egos
All men will dig their heels in if pushed enough. All men will reach the point that they say "no" for no reason other than opposition, for no reason other than the word fits their mouth, and tastes as good as it sounds.
Fire isn’t patient. Fire does not negotiate. I should have known these things.
Call it a personal foible. Some people are scared of spiders. I'm scared of immolation. Also spiders.
Man is doomed to repeat his mistakes time and again because he learns only from experience.
Killing takes space. You need to move, to advance, to withdraw, and sometimes to just plain run for it.
We’re built of contradictions, all of us. It’s those opposing forces that give us strength, like an arch, each block pressing the next.
We’re going to need a bigger army.
It’s good to be the king. Except when you get hit in the head with a sword.
When you fight among subjects you are a figure, a form, an idea
Many men do not look their part. Wisdom may wait behind a foolish smile, bravery can gaze from eyes that cry fright.
It seems terror is a companion in the soft years when everything is new, and returns to us with age, as we acquire things to lose.
I’ve become good at finding crumbs of comfort. Sometimes they’re all you have to eat.