Patrick Rothfuss

"There is only one Whedon, and I am his prophet."

"Seven things has Lady Lackless Keeps them underneath her black dress One a ring that’s not for wearing One a sharp word, not for swearing Right beside her husband’s candle There’s a door without a handle In a box, no lids or locks Lackless keeps her husband’s rocks There’s a secret she’s been keeping She’s been dreaming and not sleeping On a road, that’s not for traveling Lackless likes her riddle raveling."

"Its the questions we cant answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give a man an answer, all he gains is a little fact. But give him a question and hell look for his own answers."

"I really dont go in for talking about current events on the blog. The main reason for this is the fact that I am profoundly out of touch with the outside world. I dont have cable and I dont watch the news. On the rare occasion I miss the news and feel the need to absorb some fearmongering bullshit, I just drop a tab of acid and read a Lovecraft story. Theres less pretense that way."

"I was heavily influenced by my first attempt at a novel. I started a fantasy novel back in high school, and.... well... it really sucked. It was a plotless, clichéd mess. When I sat down to write this book, I wanted to make something much, much better. I wanted to write something that was pretty much the opposite of that first novel. Also, I read Cyrano De Bergerac, right before I started writing the book. Cyranos character reminded me of some important things, namely, what it really means to be a tragic hero. You dont need a lot of the cliché fantasy trappings to have that cool character. I also read Giacomo Casanovas memoirs soon after starting this project. That opened my eyes to how interesting an autobiography could be, provided the person telling it has a way with words and has lived a sufficiently adventurous life...."

"My father had a dark glimmer in his eye as he moved behind her. “Old?” He spoke in a low voice as he began to rub her shoulders again. “Woman, I have a mind to prove you wrong.” She smiled a wry smile. “Sir, I have a mind to let you.”"

"Fantasy is my favorite genre for reading and writing. We have more options than anyone else, and the best props and special effects. That means if you want to write a fantasy story with Norse gods, sentient robots, and telepathic dinosaurs, you can do just that. Want to throw in a vampire and a lesbian unicorn while youre at it? Go ahead. Nothings off limits. But the endless possibility of the genre is a trap. Its easy to get distracted by the glittering props available to you and forget what youre supposed to be doing: telling a good story. Don’t get me wrong, magic is cool. But a nervous mother singing to her child at night while something moves quietly through the dark outside her house? That’s a story. Handled properly, it’s more dramatic than any apocalypse or goblin army could ever be."

"Remember this son, if you forget everything else. A poet is a musician who can’t sing. Words have to find a man’s mind before they can touch his heart. And, some men’s minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly, no matter how small or stubborn the mind of the man who listens."

"Lord but I dislike poetry. How can anyone remember words that aren’t put to music?"

"Plainly said, he was giving me enough rope to hang myself with. Apparently he didn’t realize that once a noose is tied, it will fit one neck as easily as another."

"She looked at me. Looked away. “You think too much of me.” I smiled. “Perhaps you think too little of yourself.”"

"“How do they feel about demons off in Atur?” he asked. “Scared.” My father tapped his temple. “All that religion makes their brains soft.”"