There is a sort of camaraderie that rarely exists except between men who have fought the same enemies and know the same women.

Truth is a troublesome motherfucker unless it's handled properly

Feel free to call me by my first name: Master.

When someone tells you a piece of their life, they're giving you a gift, not granting you your due.

After an awkward pause, Bast extended his hand. Chronicler hesitated for a bare moment before reaching out quickly, as if he were sticking his hand into a fire. Nothing happened, both of them seemed moderately surprised. "Amazing, isn't it?" Kvothe addressed them bitingly. "Five fingers and flesh with blood beneath. One could almost believe that on the other end of that hand lay a person of some sort.

The air was heavy with the smell of leather and dust, of old parchment and binding glue. It smelled of secrets.

It's hard to be wrongfully accused, but it's worse when the people looking down on you are clods who have never read a book or traveled more than twenty miles from the place they were born.