Patrick Rothfuss

But for most practical purposes Tarbean had two pieces: Waterside and Hillside. Waterside is where people are poor. That makes them beggars, thieves, and whores. Hillside is where people are rich. That makes them solicitors, politicians, and courtesans.

There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.

He picked the rock back up. “Do you believe that it floated?”

“No!” I sulked, rubbing my temples.

“Good. It didn’t. Never fool yourself into perceiving things that don’t exist.”

“You’re just getting old.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Truly, all the more’s the tragedy; the second thing to go is a man’s memory.”

My name is Kvothe, pronounced nearly the same as “Quothe.” Names are important as they tell you a great deal about a person. I’ve had more names than anyone has a right to.

The Adem call me Maedre. Which, depending on how it’s spoken, can mean “The Flame,” “The Thunder,” or “The Broken Tree.”

It was one of those perfect autumn days so common in stories and so rare in the real world.

“How do they feel about demons off in Atur?” he asked.

“Scared.” My father tapped his temple. “All that religion makes their brains soft.”

So you went looking for a myth and found a man.

It’s hard to be wrongfully accused, but it’s worse when the people looking down on you are clods who have never read a book or traveled more than twenty miles from the place they were born.

So this is the difference between telling a story and being in one, he thought numbly, the fear.

A tinker’s debt is always paid:

Once for any simple trade.

Twice for freely given aid.

Thrice for any insult made.

Lord but I dislike poetry. How can anyone remember words that aren’t put to music?