My Shrug Was So Nonchalant It Would

I Learned To Love The Feel Of Good Words.

The Waystone Was His, Just As The Third Silence Was His. This Was Appropriate, As It Was The Greatest Silence Of The Three, Wrapping The Others Inside Itself. It Was Deep And Wide As Autumn’s Ending. It Was Heavy As A Great River-smooth Stone. It Was The Patient, Cut-flower Sound Of A Man Who Is Waiting To Die.

She Taught Me I Should Never Do Anything In Private I Did Not Want Talked About In Public, And Cautioned Me Not To Talk In My Sleep.

If Your Name Is Getting Too Heavy, You Should Have Kvothe Give You A New One.

Isn't That The Way Of The World? We Want The Sweet Things, But We Need The Unpleasant Ones.