No Fight Is Hopeless Till It Has

I Am Doing The Right Thing, He Told Himself, So Why Do I Feel So Bad?

I Know Nothing And Perhaps I Never Will.

No One Will Be Alive By The Last Book. In Fact, They All Die In The Fifth. The Sixth Book Will Be Just A Thousand-page Description Of Snow Blowing Across The Graves.

The Apples Stewed With Prunes Are Excellent, Except For The Prunes, I Won't Eat Prunes Myself. Well, There Was One Time When Hobb Chopped Them Up With Chesnuts And Carrots And Hid Them In A Hen. Never Trust A Cook, My Lord. They'll Prune You When You Least Expect It.

Time Is Different For A Tree Than For A Man. Sun And Soil And Water, These Are The Things A Weirwood Understands, Not Days And Years And Centuries. For Men, Time Is A River. We Are Trapped In Its Flow, Hurtling From Past To Present, Always In The Same Direction. The Lives Of Trees Are Different. They Root And Grow And Die In One Place, And That River Does Not Move Them. The Oak Is The Acorn, The Acorn Is The Oak.