Archive Quotes

My library is an archive of longings.

The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon.

Life before Death. Strength before Weakness. Journey before Destination.

Honor is dead. But I'll see what I can do.

Sometimes a hypocrite is nothing more than a man in the process of changing.

Sometimes the prize is not worth the costs. The means by which we achieve victory are as important as the victory itself.

To lack feeling is to be dead, but to act on every feeling is to be a child.

The most important step a man can take. It's not the first one, is it? It's the next one. Always the next step, Dalinar.

Expectations were like fine pottery. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack.

Somebody has to start. Somebody has to step forward and do what is right, because it is right.

To love the journey is to accept no such end. I have found, through painful experience, that the most important step a person can take is always the next one.

There is nothing more sacred than the Archives. Even temples can be rebuilt, but books cannot be rewritten.

Accept the pain, but don't accept that you deserved it.

And so, does the destination matter? Or is it the path we take? I declare that no accomplishment has substance nearly as great as the road used to achieve it. We are not creatures of destinations. It is the journey that shapes us. Our callused feet, our backs strong from carrying the weight of our travels, our eyes open with the fresh delight of experiences lived.

I will take responsibility for what I have done,” Dalinar whispered. “If I must fall, I will rise each time a better man.

Why hasn't anyone killed him yet?” “Dumb luck,” Wit said. “In that I’m lucky you’re all so dumb.

Do not let your assumptions about a culture block your ability to perceive the individual, or you will fail.

Strength does not make one capable of rule; it makes one capable of service.

In the end, all men die. How you lived will be far more important to the Almighty than what you accomplished.

Ah, the outdoors,' Shallan said. 'I visited that mythical place once.

He saw it in her eyes. The anguish, the frustration. The terrible nothing that clawed inside and sought to smother her. She knew. It was there, inside. She had been broken. Then she smiled. Oh, storms. She smiled anyway. It was the single most beautiful thing he’d seen in his entire life.

The only time you seem honest is when you’re insulting someone!” “The only honest things I can say to you are insults.

You sent him to the sky to die, assassin," Kaladin said, Stormlight puffing from his lips, "but the sky and the winds are mine. I claim them, as I now claim your life.

We follow the codes not because they bring gain, but because we loathe the people we would otherwise become.

The question,’ she replied, ‘is not whether you will love, hurt, dream, and die. It is what you will love, why you will hurt, when you will dream, and how you will die. This is your choice. You cannot pick the destination, only the path.

Ten spears go to battle," he whispered, "and nine shatter. Did the war forge the one that remained? No, Amaran. All the war did was identify the spear that would not break.

As I fear not a child with a weapon he cannot lift, I will never fear the mind of a man who does not think.

Yes, I began my journey alone, and I ended it alone. But that does not mean that I walked alone.

I ain't grouchy,” Teft snapped. “I just have a low threshold for stupidity.

Authority doesn't come from a rank.," Kaladin said, fingering the spheres in his pocket. "Where does it come from?" "From the men who give it to you. That's the only way to get it.

This is life, and I will not lie by saying every day will be sunshine. But there will be sunshine again, and that is a very different thing to say. That is truth.

This world, it is a tempest sometimes. But remember, the sun always rises again.

Jasnah had once defined a fool as a person who ignored information because it disagreed with desired results.

A woman's strength should not be in her role, whatever she chooses to be, but in the power to choose that role.

I don't talk to myself because I'm crazy." "No?" "I do it because I'm awesome.

Words are where most change begins.

Too many of us take great pains with what we ingest through our mouths, and far less with what we partake of through our ears and eyes.

Just because I do not accept the teachings of the devotaries does not mean I've discarded a belief in right and wrong." "But the Almighty determines what is right!" "Must someone, some unseen thing, declare what is right for it to be right? I believe that my own morality -- which answers only to my heart -- is more sure and true than the morality of those who do right only because they fear retribution.

The hallmark of insecurity is bravado.

Brightness...I believe you stray into sarcasm." "Funny.I thought I'd run straight into it,screaming at the top of my lungs.

Life breaks us, Teft. Then we fill the cracks with something stronger.

Hello, a cheerful voice said in his mind. Would you like to destroy some evil today?

Inappropriate?” Pattern said. “Such as … dividing by zero?

Journey before destination, you bastard.

Onward, then! To glory and some such nonsense.

Lying is easy. But it's lonely." "What do you mean?" "When you lie to everyone about everything, what's left? What's true?" "Nothing," I say. "Exactly.

What if I mess up?" "Oh, you will. You'll mess up, you'll make mistakes, you'll break things. Some you'll be able to piece together, and others you'll lose. That's all a given. But there's only one thing you have to do for me." "What's that?" "Stay alive long enough to mess up again.

The mark of the true hero is that the most heroic of his deeds is done in secret. We never hear of it. And yet somehow, my friends, we know. —Father Tyler’s Collected Sermons, FROM THE ARVATH ARCHIVE

The trick to happiness wasn’t in freezing every momentary pleasure and clinging to each one, but in ensuring one’s life would produce many future moments to anticipate.

Overcome your guilt. Care, but not too much. Take responsibility, but don't blame yourself. Protect, save, help- but know when to give up. They're precarious ledges to walk. How do I do it?

Power is an illusion of perception.

You tried to help the people of the market. You mostly failed. This is life. The longer you live, the more you fail. Failure is the mark of a life well lived. In turn, the only way to live without failure is to be of no use to anyone. Trust me, I've practiced

One can believe in a story without believing it happened.

Two blind men waited at the end of an era, contemplating beauty.

All stories told have been told before. We tell them to ourselves, as did all men who ever were. And all men who ever will be. The only things new are the names.

NO MATING.

An excuse is what you make after the deed is done, while a justification is what you offer before.

I’m so storming pure I practically belch rainbows.

How . . .” Dalinar said. “You fell into a chasm!” “I fell face-first, sir,” Kaladin said, “and fortunately, I’m particularly hard-headed.

I will protect even those I hate,” Kaladin whispered through bloody lips. “So long as it is right.

I can see what you’re up to.” “Five foot six inches,” Shallan said. “I suspect that’s all I will ever be up to, unfortunately.

It will,” Wit said, “but then it will get better. Then it will get worse again. Then better. This is life, and I will not lie by saying every day will be sunshine. But there will be sunshine again, and that is a very different thing to say. That is truth. I promise you, Kaladin: You will be warm again.

It takes at least three assassination attempts to scare me off. And even then, if there are baked goods involved, I might come back.

A man’s emotions are what define him, and control is the hallmark of true strength. To lack feeling is to be dead, but to act on every feeling is to be a child.

Our weakness doesn’t make us weak. Our weakness makes us strong. For we had to carry it all these years.

Too many scholars think of research as purely a cerebral pursuit. If we do nothing with the knowledge we gain, then we have wasted our study. Books can store information better than we can--what we do that books cannot is interpret. So if one is not going to draw conclusions, then one might as well just leave the information in the texts.

Aim for the sun. That way if you miss, at least your arrow will fall far away, and the person it kills will likely be someone you don’t know.

The funny thing about armor is that it doesn't just keep other people out. It keeps us in. We build it up around us, not realizing that we're trapping ourselves.

The most important word a man can say are, "I will do better.

Ignorance is hardly unusual, Miss Davar. The longer I live, the more I come to realize that it is the natural state of the human mind. There are many who will strive to defend its sanctity and then expect you to be impressed with their efforts.

I like visiting people in prison. I can say whatever I want to them, and they can’t do anything about it.

In the end, I must proclaim that no good can be achieved of false means. For the substance of our existence is not in the achievement, but in the method.

The world isn't fair? What a huge revelation! Some people in power abuse those they have power over? Amazing! When did this start happening?

Expectation wasn't just about what people expected of you. It was about what you expected of yourself.

Kaladin frowned. “Wait. Are you wearing cologne? In prison?” “Well, there was no need to be barbaric, just because I was incarcerated.” “Storms, you’re spoiled,” Kaladin said, smiling. “I’m refined, you insolent farmer,” Adolin said. Then he grinned. “Besides, I’ll have you know that I had to use cold water for my baths while here.” “Poor boy.

I’ve been thinking.” “A dangerous pursuit.” “Indeed.

I will protect those I hate. Even if the one I hate most is myself.

You're trying to block out every bit of noise. But people are made of noise, Mac. The world is full of noise. And finding quiet isn't about pushing everything out. It's just about pulling yourself in.

Can you feel it? Something just changed. I believe that’s the sound the world makes when it pisses itself.

We remember the good times and the bad ones, forgetting that most times are neither good nor bad. They just are.

What do you know?” “Almost everything. That almost part can be a real kick in the teeth sometimes.” “What do you want, then?” “What I can’t have.” Wit turned to him, eyes solemn. “Same as everyone else, Kaladin Stormblessed.

What did you put in the fire?" Kaladin said. "To make that special smoke?" "Nothing. It was just and ordinary fire." "But, I saw-" "What you saw belongs to you. A story doesn't live until it is imagined in someone's mind." "What does the story mean, then?" "It means what you want it to mean," Hoid said. "The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think , but to give you questions to think upon. Too often, we forget that.

For glory lit, and life alive, for goals unreached and aims to strive. All men must try, the wind did see. It is the test, it is the dream.

But merely being tradition does not make something worthy, Kadash. We can't just assume that because something is old it is right.

Expectation. That is the true soul of art. If you can give a man more than he expects, then he will laud you his entire life. If you can create an air of anticipation and feed it properly, you will succeed.

If I should die,” Dalinar said, “then I would do so having lived my life right. It is not the destination that matters, but how one arrives there.” “The Codes?” “No. The Way of Kings.” “That storming book.

There are two kinds of people in this world, son. Those who save lives, and those who take lives." "And what of those who protect and defend? Those who save lives by taking lives?" "That's like trying to stop a storm by blowing harder. Ridiculous. You can't protect by killing.

When did you get so peppy?” she shouted. “Ever since I assumed I was dead, then I suddenly wasn't.” “Then remind me to try to kill you once in a while,” she snapped. “If I succeed, it will make me feel better, and if I fail, it will make you feel better. Everyone wins!

Those candle flames were like the lives of men. So fragile. So deadly. Left alone, they lit and warmed. Let run rampant, they would destroy the very things they were meant to illuminate. Embryonic bonfires, each bearing a seed of destruction so potent it could tumble cities and dash kings to their knees.

I want you to go back into the barrack and tell the men to come out after the storm. Tell them to look up at me tied here. Tell them I’ll open my eyes and look back at them, and they’ll know that I survived.

A journey will have pain and failure. It is not only the steps forward that we must accept. It is the stumbles. The trials. The knowledge that we will fail. That we will hurt those around us. But if we stop, if we accept the person we are when we fail, the journey ends. That failure becomes our destination.

The most important words a man can say are, “I will do better.” These are not the most important words any man can say. I am a man, and they are what I needed to say. The ancient code of the Knights Radiant says “journey before destination.” Some may call it a simple platitude, but it is far more. A journey will have pain and failure. It is not only the steps forward that we must accept. It is the stumbles. The trials. The knowledge that we will fail. That we will hurt those around us. But if we stop, if we accept the person we are when we fall, the journey ends. That failure becomes our destination. To love the journey is to accept no such end. I have found, through painful experience, that the most important step a person can take is always the next one. I’m certain some will feel threatened by this record. Some few may feel liberated. Most will simply feel that it should not exist. I needed to write it anyway.

I once saw a spindly man carrying a stone larger than his head upon his back. He stumbled beneath the weight, shirtless under the sun, wearing only a loincloth. He tottered down a busy thoroughfare. People made way for him. Not because they sympathized with him, but because they feared the momentum of his steps. You dare not impede one such as this. The monarch is like this man, stumbling along, the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. Many give way before him, but so few are willing to step in and help carry the stone. They do not wish to attach themselves to the work, lest they condemn themselves to a life full of extra burdens. I left my carriage that day and took up the stone, lifting it for the man. I believe my guards were embarrassed. One can ignore a poor shirtless wretch doing such labor, but none ignore a king sharing the load. Perhaps we should switch places more often. If a king is seen to assume the burden of the poorest of men, perhaps there will be those who will help him with his own load, so invisible, yet so daunting.

Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king […] White to be bold. White to not blend into the night. White to give warning. For if you were going to assassinate a man, he was entitled to see you coming.

His gaze settles on the discarded book. He leans, reaching until his fingertips graze Dante's Inferno, still on its bed of folded sheets. "What have we here?" he asks. "Required reading," I say. "It's a shame they do that," he says, thumbing through the pages. "Requirement ruins even the best of books.

Sought we the Scrivani word-work of Surthur Long-lost in ledger all hope forgotten. Yet fast-found for friendship fair the book-bringer Hot comes the huntress Fela, flushed with finding Breathless her breast her high blood rising To ripen the red-cheek rouge-bloom of beauty. “That sort of thing,” Simmon said absently, his eyes still scanning the pages in front of him. I saw Fela turn her head to look at Simmon, almost as if she were surprised to see him sitting there. No, it was almost as if up until that point, he’d just been occupying space around her, like a piece of furniture. But this time when she looked at him, she took all of him in. His sandy hair, the line of his jaw, the span of his shoulders beneath his shirt. This time when she looked, she actually saw him. Let me say this. It was worth the whole awful, irritating time spent searching the Archives just to watch that moment happen. It was worth blood and the fear of death to see her fall in love with him. Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love, so light she probably didn’t notice it herself. It wasn’t dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the spark fades almost too fast for you to see. But still, you know it’s there, down where you can’t see, kindling.

What is a woman's place in this modern world? Jasnah Kholin's words read. I rebel against this question, though so many of my peers ask it. The inherent bias in the inquiry seems invisible to so many of them. They consider themselves progressive because they are willing to challenge many of the assumptions of the past. They ignore the greater assumption--that a 'place' for women must be defined and set forth to begin with. Half of the population must somehow be reduced to the role arrived at by a single conversation. No matter how broad that role is, it will be--by-nature--a reduction from the infinite variety that is womanhood. I say that there is no role for women--there is, instead, a role for each woman, and she must make it for herself. For some, it will be the role of scholar; for others, it will be the role of wife. For others, it will be both. For yet others, it will be neither. Do not mistake me in assuming I value one woman's role above another. My point is not to stratify our society--we have done that far to well already--my point is to diversify our discourse. A woman's strength should not be in her role, whatever she chooses it to be, but in the power to choose that role. It is amazing to me that I even have to make this point, as I see it as the very foundation of our conversation.

What is a man’s life worth?” Dalinar asked softly. “The slavemasters say one is worth about two emerald broams,” Kaladin said, frowning. “And what do you say?” “A life is priceless,” he said immediately, quoting his father. Dalinar smiled, wrinkle lines extending from the corners of his eyes. “Coincidentally, that is the exact value of a Shardblade. So today, you and your men sacrificed to buy me twenty-six hundred priceless lives. And all I had to repay you with was a single priceless sword. I call that a bargain.

Fleet kept running,” Kaladin growled, getting back under Elhokar’s arm. “What?” “He couldn't win, but he kept running. And when the storm caught him, it didn't matter that he’d died, because he’d run for all he had.” “Sure. All right.” The king sounded groggy, though Kaladin couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the blood loss. “We all die in the end, you see,” Kaladin said. “So I guess what truly matters is just how well you've run. And Elhokar, you've kept running since your father was killed, even if you screw up all the storming time.” “Thank you?” the king said, drowsy.

Some men, as they age, grow kinder. I am not one of those, for I have seen how the cosmere can mistreat the innocent - and that leaves me disinclined toward kindness. Some men, as they age, grow wiser. I am not one of those, for wisdom and I have always been at cross-purposes, and I have yet to learn the tongue in which she speaks. Some men, as they age, grow more cynical. I, fortunately, am not one of those. If I were, the very air would warp around me, sucking in all emotion, leaving only scorn. Other men...other men, as they age, merely grow stranger. I fear that I am one of those. I am the bones of a foreign species left drying on the plain that was once, long ago, a sea. A curiosity, perhaps a reminder, that all has not always been as it is now.