Patrick Rothfuss
Patrick Rothfuss
Patrick James Rothfussis an American writer of epic fantasy. He is best known for his projected three-volume series The Kingkiller Chronicle...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth6 June 1973
CityMadison, WI
CountryUnited States of America
tangled decision luck
My bad luck got tangled up with my bad decisions, and I'm paying for it.
air dust smell
The air was heavy with the smell of leather and dust, of old parchment and binding glue. It smelled of secrets.
cat jealous nonchalant
My shrug was so nonchalant it would make a cat jealous
years long quiet
A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection
writing law needs
You need to realize that most writing rules aren't laws, they're rules of thumb.
love-you trouble chasing
When you love something, you have to make sure it loves you back, or you'll bring about no end of trouble chasing it.
dream song apples
Auri took it, and peered inside the small leather sack. “Why this is lovely, Kvothe. What lives in the salt?” Trace minerals, I thought. Chromium, bassal, malium, iodine . . . everything your body needs but probably can’t get from apples and bread and whatever you manage to scrounge up when I can’t find you. “The dreams of fish,” I said. “And sailor’s songs.
moon giving said
I can't give you the moon,” the tinker said. “She doesn't belong to me. She belongs only to herself.
role-models roles following
I'm not a role model. I'm an aberation. A statistical anomoly. Following in my footsteps is about the dumbest thing you could ever do.
believe blood hands
After an awkward pause, Bast extended his hand. Chronicler hesitated for a bare moment before reaching out quickly, as if he were sticking his hand into a fire. Nothing happened, both of them seemed moderately surprised. "Amazing, isn't it?" Kvothe addressed them bitingly. "Five fingers and flesh with blood beneath. One could almost believe that on the other end of that hand lay a person of some sort.
song sweet moving
Then I played the song that hides in the center of me. That wordless music that moves through the secret places in my heart. I played it carefully, strumming it slow and low into the dark stillness of the night. I would like to say it is a happy song, that it is sweet and bright, but it is not.
love-you boys moon
Could you help me catch the moon?” “I might be able to give you some advice,” the old man said reluctantly. “But first you should think this over, boy. When you love something, you have to make sure it loves you back, or you’ll bring about no end of trouble chasing it.
two what-if trying
In my opinion there are two basic questions that any writer tries to answer. "What is?" is the question non-fiction asks. "What if?" is the question fiction asks. That's the question I'm more interested in.
helping-someone helping sometimes
But sometimes the best help a person can find is helping someone else.