Robert Jordan (1948 – 2007)
Under which he is best known as the author of the bestselling The Wheel of Time fantasy series.
Honor? Maybe they're letting him sleep on silk, but a prisoner is still a prisoner.
That was all he ever really wanted from women; a smile, a dance, a kiss, and to be remembered fondly.
The gall of the man. The utter gall! Detaining us! Restricting us!
If you try putting a woman on a horse when she does not want to go, she may put a knife in your ribs.
On a day of fire and blood, a tattered banner waved above Dumai's wells, bearing the ancient symbol of Aes Sedai. On a day of fire and blood and the one power, as prophecy had suggested, the unstained tower, broken, bent knee to the forgotten sign. The first nine Aes Sedai swore fealty to the Dragon Reborn, and the world was changed forever.
I always get what I want in the end. And I think I want...ornamental ironwork. For the windows of my bedchamber.
Young men can be impetuous, young men can be rush, young men can be fools, but the Car'a'carn cannot let himself be a young man.
Courage to strengthen, fire to blind, music to daze, iron to bind.
The wheel of a man's life. No mercy. No pity.
I’m no lord. I’ve more respect for myself than that.
By the look of you, Nynaeve, I could almost think you were angry, but I know you have such a sweet disposition people ask you to dabble your fingers in their tea.
There is an old saying here in the Borderlands: "Better to have one woman on your side than ten men."
Mat was caught up in it now. He more than merely liked gambling, and battle was a gamble to make dicing in taverns a thing for children and toothless invalids. Lives were the stake here, yours and other men's, men who were not even there. Make the wrong wager, a foolish bet, and cities died, or whole nations. Natael's somber music was fit accompaniment. At the same time, this was a game that set the blood racing.
Remember, you fool! Remember your futile attack on Great Lord of the Dark! Remember his counterstroke! Remember! Even now the Hundred Companions are tearing the world apart, and every day a hundred men more join them. What hand slew Ilyena Sunhair, Kinslayer? Not mine. Not mine. What hand struck down every life that bore a drop of your blood, everyone who loved you, everyone you loved? Not mine, Kinslayer. Not mine. Remember, and know the price of opposing Shai'tan!
Young men and fools sometimes bear pain they do not have to as a badge of their pride. Or their foolishness.
Death rides on my shoulder, death walks in my footsteps. I am death.
The rose petal floats on water. The kingfisher flashes above the pond. Life and beauty swirl in the midst of death.
I will use anybody I must. You said it yourself; I am who I am. And I'm using myself up, Perrin, because I have to. Just like I'll use anybody I have to. We don't have a choice anymore. Not me, not you, not anybody!
As my Lord says, my Lord's leg is not a side of beef. Thank you, my Lord, for instructing me.
What you need isn’t always what you want.