The Way of Kings

Was there no hope for men? They killed those they should have loved. What good was it to fight, what good was it to win, if there was no difference between ally and enemy?

“No. We fight here because we understand. The end is the same. It is the path that separates men. When we taste that end, we will do so with our heads held high, eyes to the sun.”

But weakness can imitate strength if bound properly, just as cowardice can imitate heroism if given nowhere to flee

I’m on edge, as I imagine that we all are. At times, it seems to me that to be human is to want that which we cannot have. For some, this is power. For me, it is peace.”

We never lack men and women who wish to lead.”

“True,” Dalinar said, “but we do lack ones who are good at it.”

“What does the story mean, then?”

“It means what you want it to mean,” Hoid said. “The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon. Too often, we forget that.”

How easy it was to ignore a blackened heart if you dressed it in a pressed uniform and a reputation for honesty.

When other men failed, a field of crops got worms in them. When a surgeon failed, someone died.

You have to learn when to care….

“If I should die,” Dalinar said, “then I would do so having lived my life right. It is not the destination that matters, but how one arrives there.”

“A man can never have enough cousins,” Lopen said