David Gemmel

Life is sad enough, Magir. Laughter is a thing to be treasured.

It is a rare man who notices a handsome woman.

When responsibility is thrust upon you, can you run from it? No—you have never and you never will. That is what makes you as you are. That is why men follow you, though they hate your blood. They trust you.

And now I am going to tell you a great truth, and if you are wise, you will take it to your heart. All men are stupid. They are full of fear and insecurity—it makes them weak. Always the other man seems stronger, more confident, more capable. It is a lie of the worst kind, for we lie to ourselves ... How do you know? You do not! You listened to the voice of your inadequacy, and because you believed, you are in my power. If I draw my sword, you are dead!

I think maybe it is better to believe than not to believe. But I couldn't tell you why.

Your face may be gone, but you know who you are.

The world would be a sad place without mysteries.

Look around you: see the people as they touch and show their love. But don't watch coldly, like an observer. Don't hover outside life—take part in it. There are people waiting to love you. It is not something you should turn down lightly.

"We don't seem to be overflowing with luck." "You make your own. I put no faith in gods, Lake. Never have. If they exist, they care very little—if at all—about ordinary mortals. I put my faith in me, and do you know why? Because I have never lost!"

"It seems to me that a man has only as much power as we allow him. Can Ceska move mountains? Can he put out the stars? Can he tell rain to fall? He is only a man, and if everyone disobeyed him, he would fall. But they don’t, do they? It is said that he has an army of forty thousand men. Men. Drenai men! Ready to march on other Drenai men. At least in the Nadir Wars we were sure of our enemy. Now there is no enemy. Only failed friends.”

All things in the world are created for man, yet all have two purposes. The waters run that we might drink of them, but they are also symbols of the futility of man. They reflect our lives in rushing beauty, birthed in the purity of the mountains. As babes they babble and run, gushing and growing as they mature into strong young rivers. Then they widen and slow until at least they meander, like old men, to join with the sea.

... a man can overcome his background, even as he can overcome a skilled opponent.