queermilady:

I’m worried about the Kingkiller Chronicle tv series.
Because the fandom will grow.
And people will start hating Denna and other Females…
And some people will be rude, and what if the show is shit?
Orgh, I’m scared of that.
And… what if they made all the characters with ambiguous race white?

Bast flailed his hands franticly at Chronicler’s head. “Quiet!” he hissed. “We have to be quiet. He has ears like a hawk.”
“How …” Chronicler began more softly, then stopped. “Hawks don’t have ears.”
Bast gave him a puzzled look. “What?”
“You said he has ears like a hawk. That doesn’t make any sense.”

Patrick Rothfuss, Kingkiller Chronicle (via myfantasyquotes) —

queermilady:

I love Kvothe, but i want to punch him in the face, several times, every chapter

When the hearthfire turns to blue,
What to do? What to do?
Run outside. Run and hide

When your bright sword turns to rust?
Who to trust? Who to trust?
Stand alone. Standing stone.

See a woman pale as snow?
Silent come and silent go.
What’s their plan? What’s their plan?
Chandrian. Chandrian.

When the hearthfire turns to blue,
What to do? What to do?
Run outside. Run and hide.

When his eyes are black as crow?
Where to go? Where to go?
Near and far. Here they are.

See a man without a face?
Move like ghosts from place to place.
What’s their plan? What’s their plan?
Chandrian. Chandrian.

Kingkiller Chronicles, Patrick Rothfuss (via kvothelightfinger) —

martamontell:

^///^  ♥

Why are you smiling?’
‘I’m relieved,’ I said honestly. ‘I was worried I’d given myself cadmium poisoning, or I had some mysterious disease. This is just someone trying to kill me.

Patrick Rothfuss (via damatris) —

On his first hand he wore rings of stone,
Iron, amber, wood and bone.
There were rings unseen on his second hand.
One was blood in a flowing band.
One of air all whisper thin,
And the ring of ice had a flaw within.
Full faintly shone the ring of flame,
and the final ring was without name.

kvothe’s naming rhyme (via kenway) —

“No, listen. I’ve got it now. You meet a girl: shy, unassuming. If you tell her she’s beautiful, she’ll think you’re sweet, but she won’t believe you. She knows that beauty lies in your beholding.” Bast gave a grudging shrug. “And sometimes that’s enough.”

His eyes brightened. “But there’s a better way. You show her she is beautiful. You make mirrors of your eyes, prayers of your hands against her body. It is hard, very hard, but when she truly believes you…” Bast gestured excitedly. “Suddenly the story she tells herself in her own head changes. She transforms. She isn’t seen as beautiful. She is beautiful, seen.”

The Name of the Wind, Patrick Rothfuss (via daughterofhurin) —

It’s like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.

Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind (via zenarchism) —