The Seeds Of The Past Bear Fruit

Chronicler Picked Up His Pen, But Before He Could Dip It, Kvothe Held Up A Hand. "let Me Say One Thing Before I Start. I've Told Stories In The Past, Painted Pictures With Words, Told Hard Lies And Harder Truths. Once, I Sang Colors To A Blind Man. Seven Hours I Played, But At The End He Said He Saw Them, Green And Red And Gold. That, I Think, Was Easier Than This. Trying To Make You Understand Her With Nothing More Than Words. You Have Never Seen Her, Never Heard Her Voice. You Cannot Know.

What I'd Love More Than Anything Is For Worldbuilders To Continue To Grow And Become Entangled In All The Different Corners Of The Geek Community.

It Was The Patient, Cut-flower Sound Of A Man Who Is Waiting To Die.

I Can't Give You The Moon,” The Tinker Said. “she Doesn't Belong To Me. She Belongs Only To Herself.

All Stories Are True.