There are no endings, and never will be endings, to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was an ending.

Your insult has offended me. If we were at the Peaks, we would have to duel in traditional alil'tiki'i fashion." "Which is what?" Teft asked. "With spears?" Rock laughed. "No, no. We upon the Peaks are not barbarians like you down here." "How then?" Kaladin asked, genuinely curious. "Well," Rock said, "is involving much mudbeer and singing." “How's that a duel?” "He who can still sing after the most drinks is winner. Plus, soon' everyone is so drunk that they forget what argument was about." Teft laughed. "Beats knives at dawn, I suppose.

I Write those words in steel for anything else not set in metal cannot be trusted

It's a mystery," Vin said, narrowing her eyes and smiling. "We Mistborn are incredibly mysterious." Elend paused." Um...I'm Mistborn too, Vin. That doesn't make any sense." "We Mistborn need not make sense," Vin said." It's beneath us. Come on-the sun's already down. We need to get moving.

I'm Teoish," Sarene said, successfully spearing something that looked like a marinated piece of shrimp. "We're all this tall." "Father's Teoish too, Kaise," Daorn said. "And you know how tall he is." "But father's fat," Kaise pointed out. "Why aren't you fat too, Sarene?

Are there any religions on your list that include the slaughter of noblemen as a holy duty?

Novels aren’t just happy escapes; they are slivers of people’s souls, nailed to the pages, dripping ink from veins of wood pulp. Reading the right one at the right time can make all the difference.