‘You’re my safe harbour in an endless, stormy sea.’
I chuckled. ‘Am I?’
‘You are,’ she said easily. ‘You are my shady willow on a sunny day.’
‘You,’ I said, ‘are sweet music in a distant room.’
‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘You are unexpected cake on a rainy afternoon.’
‘You’re the poultice that draws the poison from my heart,’ I said.
‘Hmmm.’ Denna looked uncertain. ‘I don’t know about that one. A heart full of poison isn’t an appealing thought.’
‘Yeah,’ I admitted. ‘That sounded better before I actually said it.’
‘That’s what happens when you mix your metaphors.’
I chuckled. ‘Am I?’
‘You are,’ she said easily. ‘You are my shady willow on a sunny day.’
‘You,’ I said, ‘are sweet music in a distant room.’
‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘You are unexpected cake on a rainy afternoon.’
‘You’re the poultice that draws the poison from my heart,’ I said.
‘Hmmm.’ Denna looked uncertain. ‘I don’t know about that one. A heart full of poison isn’t an appealing thought.’
‘Yeah,’ I admitted. ‘That sounded better before I actually said it.’
‘That’s what happens when you mix your metaphors.’
“
| — | The Wise Man’s Fear, Patrick Rothfuss (via agriff11) |
Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need.
First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind’s way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door.
Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying ‘time heals all wounds’ is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door.
Third is the door of madness. 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.
Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.
“
| — | Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind (via empowerage-of-words) |
Elodin made it clear that anyone stupid enough to jump off a roof was too reckless to be allowed to hold a spoon in his presence, let alone study something as ‘profound and volatile’ as naming.
Nevertheless, I wasn’t terribly put out by Elodin’s refusal. Storybook magic or no, I was not eager to study under a man whose first set of lessons had left me with three broken ribs, a mild concussion, and a dislocated shoulder.
Nevertheless, I wasn’t terribly put out by Elodin’s refusal. Storybook magic or no, I was not eager to study under a man whose first set of lessons had left me with three broken ribs, a mild concussion, and a dislocated shoulder.
“
| — | “The Name Of The Wind”, page 315, The Ever-Changing Wind, Patrick Rothfuss (via merlypops) |
Bast: A note? You sneak out and leave me a NOTE? What am I, some dockside whore?
Kvothe: I knew you would just argue with me, Bast.
Bast: It isn't even a GOOD note. "If you are reading this I'm probably dead." What sort of note is that?
Vashet gave me a long look, curiosity plain on her face. “I will admit, I’ve never had a student offer himself up for a vicious beating in order to prove he’s worth my time.”
“This was nothing,” I said nonchalantly. “Once I jumped off a roof.”
“
| — | The Wise Man’s Fear - Patrick Rothfuss (via thoughtsofathene) |
