Bast looked at him incredulously."The whole world is burning down, "he said."Open your eyes.

Half of seeming clever is keeping your mouth shut at the right times.

There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.

Books are a poor substitute for female companionship, but they are easier to find.

I've always liked the moonless night best. It's easier to say things in the dark. It's easier to be yourself.

I am no poet. I do not love words for the sake of words. I love words for what they can accomplish. Similarly, I am no arithmetician. Numbers that speak only of numbers are of little interest to me.

Dawn was coming. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.

Death was like an unpleasant neighbor. You didn’t talk about him for fear he might hear you and decide to pay a visit.

Hespe's mouth went firm. She didn't scowl exactly, but it looked like she was getting all the pieces of a scowl together in one place, just in case she needed them in a hurry.

My bad luck got tangled up with my bad decisions, and I'm paying for it.

Pride is always a better lever against the nobility than reason.

Believe more deeply. Hold your face up to the light, even though for the moment you do not see.

Only the weak use "I can't" as an excuse to give up.

He was supposed to be the one I loved forever. But he never saw the tears stream down my face. Never knew the hurt and humiliation and anguish. He just disappeared into the night,

To recover the purest Zero mind, and cosmic consciousness, we first have to attain an earth consciousness.

At some future period, not very distant as measured by centuries, the civilized races of man will almost certainly exterminate, and replace the savage races throughout the world.

The unsuspected is the daily fare of the traveler in Thibet.

The first day of the rest of my life, and I’m not sure I want to be here. I know I should be thanking somebody for this, but I really don’t feel like it. Instead, I wish they hadn’t bothered.

I'm a fairly fast, but sloppy writer, so I'm a big fan of re-writing, and re-writing again.

If you know the dark, you find it has a light of its own to let you see.

The superstition that the hounds of truth will rout the vermin of error seems, like a fragment of Victorian lace, quaint, but too brittle to be lifted out of the showcase.