[Lucky Revenant]

Well, that makes me feel a bit better haha.  

[Sergeant Sunrise]

One of my fav quotes was in the final battle with QB getting ready to unleash.
"And I ain't Tayschrenn and this ain't Pale. Got no one behind me, so keep throwing them my way y'damned geckos. Use it all up!"
then slightly farther down the page..after sunrise gets destroyed by some lightning.
"Fuck you, Quick - this ain't Pale, you know! And you ain't Tayschrenn!"
pg 843

[Burns Sleep]

".....And run Like Hood himself is on your heels!"

'Commander!' someone cries

'What?'
'Who's Hood?'

Gods below. 'He's just the guy you don't want on your heels, right?'

'Oh. Right'

Hedge is funny.

&
'Gods, what was that?'

Hedge's grin broadened. 'That, soldiers, was Quick Ben.'

[Sentient_hotdog]

'Everyone hates you, you know,' Grub said.
'Seems fair,' Kindly replied.

p63

I fall in love with a character I barely knew existed in every one of these books. In DoD, it was Kindly.

[Leo]

Quote

'I mean his timeline makes sense-'
'Excuse me, his what?''Well, when he did what and where he did it. A proper course of events but I figure that just means he's worked it out to sound plausible'" DoD UK HC, p 803

HIS TIMELINE DOES NOT MATTER

Quote

HAIL THE MARINES!

Win


*Goes to look up the Sunrise quote that can't quite be remembered*
This could take a while. I'll be back.
Edit: I found it. It's actually not that funny...

This post has been edited by Leo: 17 February 2010 - 02:04 AM

[Hood's Balls]

One that got me laughing was,

'We're going to ride those?'
'Yes, Mortal Sword. They were bred for you and the Shield Anvil.'
'The one for Stormy's got the saddle around the wrong way. How's he going to stick his head up the Ve'Gath's ass, where he'll feel at home?'

[knight of shadows]

Sergeant Sunrise, on 04 February 2010 - 07:25 AM, said:

One of my fav quotes was in the final battle with QB getting ready to unleash.
"And I ain't Tayschrenn and this ain't Pale. Got no one behind me, so keep throwing them my way y'damned geckos. Use it all up!"
then slightly farther down the page..after sunrise gets destroyed by some lightning.
"Fuck you, Quick - this ain't Pale, you know! And you ain't Tayschrenn!"
pg 843

I loved that one I also liked

"Hedge shrugged. "Big, I heard. Got a Brow like a rock shelf, a hamster's eyes, a nose spread from here to Malaz Island and he crush rocks with his teeth. More hair than a bull bhederin's dangly sack. Knuckles that can bust a Master sergeants nose-'
'You can stop there," said Pores. 'I have an amazingly precise picture in my head now, thank you.'"

and

"'I'll go find some stones,' said Ublala. 'I'm good at graves and stuff. And then Ralata, I will show you the horse and you'll be so happy'
The woman frowned. 'Horse? What horse?'
'What Stooply the Whore calls it, the thing between my legs. My bucking horse. The one eyed river eel. The Smart Woman's Dream, what Shurq Elalle calls it. Women give it all sorts of names, but they all smile when they say them. You can give it any you want and you'll be smiling, too. You'll see.'
Ralata stared after the the Toblakai as he set off in search of stones,"

[Hood's Balls]

Another good quote was something Fiddler said about Ruthan Gudd, I don't have my book with me at the moment, but it was something to the effect of,

'I don't care if he has Oponn's poker up his ass, he's just one man'

I also enjoyed Yedan's thoughts about not being a loquacious man and how comprehension is lost with complexity because, numerically, there are far more stupid people in the world. I imagined SE thinking "You don't like my work? Well, fuck you too," as he wrote that part, lol.

[Hetan]

Hellian always makes me laugh :-

"I need more corporals," Hellian announced to the nightsky. She'd been sitting by the hearth, staring into the flames. But now she was on her back, beneath spinning stars. The world could change in an instant. Who decided things like that? "One ain't enough. Ballsgird, you're now a corporal. You too, Probbly."
"It's Maybe."
"No I made up my mind."

The woman is genius writ small.

[geNESis]

One that hasn't been mentioned yet that I liked, between Knuckles and Kilmandaros.

' He rubbed at his face with both hands. "The last time Draconus was wakened to anger, Mother, nothing survived intact. Nothing." He hesitated, and then shook his head. "Not anger, not yet, anyway. He just wanted everyone to know. He wanted to send us all spinning."

Kilmandaros grunted "Rude bastard." '

[Tatterdemalion]

My fav, and I can't recall it nor find it, is when Tehol berates Brys for not having enough military knowledge, asks for a second opinion from Chauncillor Bugg, who says he's just a chauncillor - then Ceda Bugg, who says he's just a Ceda - then finally asks Brys again since he's the General.

I phrased that terribly, you all know what I mean. That little bit tickled me best.

[Hellian's Keg Lid]

Shadowthrone

"...The very idea of a Master of the Deck nauseates me"

[Coldsnap]

Mentioned it in the Hail the Marines thread, but I tear up uncontrollably every time I read the following parts:

1. Ruthans charge and how he's giving them time to understand. How deep can you dig?
2. Sunrise protecting Hedge and his ending thoughts, that he has never stood taller.
3. Henar and Lostara, and how she doesnt just dance for anyone.
4. Brys watching the heavies slow the advance of forty thousand Nahruk with appalled wonder.
5. The clubs go down, bringing the fight to just iron. Hail the Marines. The looks that sweep across the lines. Aye, you know all about Iron, dont you? Breath taking.

[Icarium Kalam]

Powder, on 31 August 2009 - 04:22 PM, said:

Heres another one from sunrise

QUOTE 'Aye.' It's a good word, i think. More a whole attitude than a word, really. With lots of meaning in it, too. A bit of 'yes' and a bit of 'well, fuck' and maybe some 'we're all in this together'. So, a word to sum up the Malazans...'
pg 553

well put sir, well put.

Aye!


"HAIL THE MARINES!"

[TheSurvivor]

Sorry, on 21 September 2009 - 10:03 PM, said:

One of the best dialogs...
"Well done, Bugg. Now then, since I hear the Malazan entourage on it's way in the hallway beyond: Brys, how big do you want to make your escort?"
"Two brigades and two battalions, sire."
"Is that reasonable?" Tehol asked, looking round.
"I have no idea," Janath replied. "Bugg?"
"I'm no general, my Queen."
"We need an expert opinion, then," said Tehol. "Brys?"

Page 168

Ahh! I was going to say that!

[TheSurvivor]

Wow, I just opened my book to a random pg and found the quote I was looking for. So here's something from the Snake.

'He seemed strangely satisfied, and he curled up tight against her hip, like a ribber when ribbers weren't ribbers but pets, and he went to sleep. She looked down on him, and thought about eating his arms.'

This quote refers to Badelle and Saddic and I chose it because, I believe, it was the first time in the book that I cringed.

Here's another: '"Indeed," snapped the Errant, "yet the face of each one is the same - a coward's face!"
Knuckles eyed him, amused.
Errastas made a fist. "What," he said in a low rasp, "is so funny?"
"The one who surrenders to his own delusions is, by your terms, no less a coward than any other."'

I just liked this bit because the Errant gets told and it's the least he deserves after Trull.

This post has been edited by TheSurvivor: 16 July 2010 - 04:45 AM

[Ain't_It_Just_]

"Don't you get it? Surviving isn't what this is about!"-Fiddler

[NikitaDarkstar]

Hellian, on 01 April 2010 - 05:41 PM, said:

Shadowthrone

"...The very idea of a Master of the Deck nauseates me"

He's only nauseated because someone other than him has that title.

Got a few ones myself, just not sure if they're from DoD or TtH so I'll keep htem for myself for now, especially since I can't find and of my malazan books atm. (Well ok I know there my RotCG copy is cause I'm reading it right now.. but yhea.)

[Seras]

I've absolutely no idea how to do the black spoiler stuff, so DON'T READ THESE QUOTES/POEMS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE ENTIRE SERIES (except maybe Night of Knives, don't think I found any interesting quotes in that one...). And yes, I know the poems look #@$!ed up.




"When can he not stand alone, where in darkness no shadows are cast, whose most precious selves deny the throne, while nothing held in life will last a moment longer, than what is carved into the very bones, but this is where you would stand, in his place and see all bleak and bridled, an array of weapons each one forged, for violence"

"When can he not stand alone, where darkness bleeds into the abyss so vast, whose every yearning seeks a new home, while each struggle leaves the meek to the stronger, and the fallen lie scattered like stones, but this is the life you would take in hand, to guide him across the path so broken so riddled, like the weapon of your will now charged, in cold balance"

"When can he not stand alone, where in darkness every shadow is lost, whose weary selves cut away and will roam, while nothing is left but this shielded stranger, standing against the wind's eternal moans, but this is your hero who must stand, guarding your broken desires the ragged flag unfurled, rising above the bastion to see your spite purged, in his silence"




"When stone is water, time is ice, when all is frozen in place, fates rain down in fell torrent"

"My face revealed, in this stone that is water, the ripples locked hard to its shape, a countenance passing strange"

"Ages will hide when stone is water, cycles bound in these depths, are flawed illusions breaking the stream"

"When stone is water, time is ice, when all is frozen in place, our lives are stones in the torrent"

"And we rain down, rain down, ever so slowly, like water on stone, with every strike of the hand"





"Where will I stand when the walls come down, East to the sun's rise, North to winter's face, South to where stars are born, West to the road of death"

"Where will I stand, when the winds wage war, fleeing the dawn, howling the breath of ice, blistered with desert's smile, dusty from crypts"

"Where will I stand, when the world crashes down, and on all sides I am left exposed, to weapons illimitable, from the vented host"

"Will I stand at all, against such forces unbarred, reeling to every blow, blinded by storms of pain, as all is taken from me, so cruelly taken away"

"Let us not talk of courage, nor steel fortitude, the gifts of wisdom burn too hot to touch, the hunger for peace breaks the heart"

"Where will I stand, in the dust of a done life, face bared to regrets that flail the known visage, until none but strangers watch my fall"




"He slid down the last of the trail, and he asked of me, 'Do you see what you expected?', and this was a question breaking loose, rolling free, out from under the stones and scattered into thoughts of what cruel fates would now decree"

"He settled back in the dust and made his face into pain, 'Did you see what you believed?' and I looked down to where blood had left its stain, the charge of what's given, what's received, announcing the closing dirge on this long campaign"

"'No' I said, 'you are not what I expected to see' Young as hope and true as love was my enemy, 'The shields were burnished bright as a sun-splashed sea, and drowning courage has brought me to this calamity, expectation has so proved the death of me'"

"He spoke to say, 'You cannot war against the man you were, and I cannot slay the man I shall one day become, our enemy is expectation flung backward and fore, the memories you choose and the tracks I would run, slayer of dreams, sower of regrets, all that we are'"




"Let the sun warm the day, if light holds all the colours then see the union as pure and free of compromise. Walk the stone and the burden of the earth with its manes like cats lying in wait as the wind slips silken and slides around the curl of your sure vision"

"Let the sun warm the day, armoured against all argument, solid in sanctity to opinion. The hue does not deceive and the blur hides no thought to partake of the grey masses in the sky, lowering horizon's rim where each step is balanced on the earth's birth"

"Wake to the warmth of the sun. It knew other lovers past and stole all the colours of eternal promises. The dust only flows to life in the lost-treasure golds of light. Hold to nothing knew for even the new is old and burden-worn"

"Let the sun bring forth the day. You have walked this way before amid hunters in the grasses and wheeling lovers of death crowning every sky. The armies have pursued anon; riders risen along the ridge. Maids and courtiers abide in future's perfect shadows until what is lost returns"



"It's no simple thing, but in the world - among people that is. Society, culture, nation - in the world, then, there are attackers and there are defenders. Most of us posses within ourselves elements of both, but in a general sense a person falls to one camp or the other, as befits their nature"

"This is not to say that aggression belongs only to those who are attackers. Far from it, in fact. In my talent with the sword, for example, I am for the most part a defender. I rely upon timing and counter-attack - I take advantage of the attacker's forward predilections, the singularity of their intent; counter-attack is, of course, aggression in its own way. Do you see the distinction?"

"Yes, I think so"

"Aggression takes many forms. Active, passive, direct, indirect. Sudden as a blow, or sustained as a siege of will. Often, it refuses to stand still, but launches up on you from all possible sides. If one tactic fails, another is tried, and so on"

"Yes. I played enough amongst the Imass children. What you describe every child learns, at the hands of the bully and the rival"

"Excellent. Of course you are right. But bear in mind, none of this belongs solely within the realm of childhood. It persists and thrives in adult society. What must be understood is this: attackers attack as a form of defence. It is their instinctive response to threat, real or perceived. It may be desperate or it may be habit, or both, when desperation becomes a way of life. Behind the assault hides a fragile person"

"Cultures tend to invite the dominance of one over the other, as a means by which an individual succeeds and advances or, conversely, fails and falls. A culture dominated by attackers - and one in which the qualities of attacking are admired, often overtly encouraged - tends to breed a people with a thick skin, which nonetheless still serves to protect a most brittle self. Thus the wounds bleed but stay well hidden beneath the surface. Cultures favouring the defender promote thin skin and quickness to take offence - its own kind of aggression, I am sure you see. The culture of attackers seeks submission and demands evidence of that submission as proof of superiority over the subdued. The culture of defenders seeks compliance through conformity, punishing dissenters and so gaining the smug superiority of enforcing silence, and from silence, complicity"

"Is there no third way of being, Silchas?"

"In my long life, Ryadd, I have seen many variations - configurations - of behaviour and attitude, and I have seen a person change from one to the other - when experience has proved damaging enough, or when the inherent weaknesses of one are recognized, leading to a wholesale rejection of it. Though, in turn, weaknesses of different sorts exist in the other, and often these prove fatal pitfalls. We are complex creatures, to be sure. The key, I think, is to hold true to your own aesthetics, that which you value, and yield to no one the power to become the arbiter of your tastes. You must also learn to devise strategies of fending off both attackers and defenders. Exploit aggression, but only in self-defence, the kind of self-defence that announces to all the implacability of your armour, your self-assurance, and affirms the sanctity of your self-esteem. Attack when you must, but not in arrogance. Defend when your values are challenged, but never with the wild fire of anger. Against attackers, your surest defence is cold iron. Against the defenders, often the best tactic is to sheathe your weapon and refuse the game. Reserve contempt for those that have truly earned it, but see the contempt you permit yourself to feel not as a weapon, but as an armour against their assaults. Finally, be ready to disarm with a smile, even as you cut deep with words"

"Passive"

"Of a sort, yes. It is more a matter of warning off potential adversaries. In effect, you are saying: 'Be careful how close your tread. You cannot hurt me, but if I am pushed hard enough, I will wound you.' In some things you must never yield, but these things are not eternally changeless or explicitly inflexible; rather, they are yours to decide upon, yours to reshape if you deem it prudent. They are immune to the pressure of others, but not indifferent to their arguments. Weight and gauge at all times, and decide for yourself value and worth. But when you sense that a line has been crossed by the other person, when you sense what is under attack, is, in fact, your self-esteem, then gird yourself and stand firm"



"When your penance is done, come find me"

"When all the judges cloaked in stone have faced away, seek the rill beneath the bowers and strings of fine pearls, down the fold of sacred hills among the elms, where animals and birds find shelter"

"Come find me, I am nestled in grasses never trod by heartbroken knights and brothers of kings, not a single root torn in the bard's trembling grief, seek out what is freely given"

"Come find me, in the wake of winter's dark flight, and take what you will of these blossoms, my colours lie in wait for you, and none other"



"There is no single god. There can never be a single god. For there to be one face, there must be another. Even should a god exist alone, isolated in its perfection, it will come to comprehend the need for a force outside itself, beyond its omniscience. If all remains within, exclusively within, that is, then there is no reason for anything to exist, no reason for creation itself. If all is ordered, untouched by chaos, then the universe that was, is, and will ever be, is without meaning, without value. The god would quickly comprehend then, that its own existence is also without meaning, and so it would cease. It would succumb to the logic of despair. In its knowledge, the god would understand the necessity for that which lies outside itself, beyond its direct control. In that tension, meaning will be found. In that struggle, value is born. If it suits you, fill the ether with gods, goddesses, spirits and demons, but never hold to a belief that but one god exists, that all resides within that god. Should you hold to such a belief, then by every path of reasoning that follows, you cannot but conclude that your god is cursed, a thing of impossible aspirations and deafening injustice, whimsical in its cruelty, blind to mercy and devoid of pity. Do not misunderstand me, choose to live with one god as you like, but in doing so be certain to acknowledge that there is an "other", an existence beyond your god. And if your god has a face, then so too does that other. In such comprehension you will come to grasp the freedom that lies at the heart of all life; that choice is the singular moral act and all one chooses can only be considered in a moral context if that choice is free"




"Sacrifice must be weighed by the pain of that which is surrendered. This alone is the true measure of a virtue's worth"



"It is an extraordinary act of courage to come to know a stranger's pain. To even consider such a thing demands a profound dispensation - a willingness to wear someone else's chains - to see with one's own eyes the hue cast on all things, the terrible stain that is despair. It is without a doubt the rarest of gifts"



"Impersonal grief, it was the grief one felt, at times, for the dying when those doing the dying were unknown, were in effect strangers; when their fate was almost abstract. A ghost cloak one tried on only to stand motionless, pensive, trying to convince oneself of its weight, and how that weight - when it ceased being ghostly - might feel some time in the future. When death became something personal, when one could not shrug out from beneath its weight. When grief ceased being an idea and became an entire world of suffocating darkness"


"It is this moment, my friends, that you must look away - as the world begins anew, in shapes announced both bright and sordid, in dark and light - and the sprawl of all existence that lies between"



"He understood now. The gods of war and what they meant, what their very existence signified. And as he stared upon those jade suns searing every closer, he was overwhelmed by the futility hiding behind all this arrogance, this mindless conceit. See us wave our banners of hate. See where it gets us. A final war had begun. Facing an enemy against whom no defence was possible. Neither words nor deeds could fool this clear-eyed arbiter. Immune to lies, indifferent to excuses and vapid discourses on necessity, on the weighing of two evils and the facile righteousness on choosing the lesser one - and yes, these were the arguments he was hearing, empty as the ether they traveled. We stood tall in paradise. And then called forth the gods of war, to bring destruction down upon ourselves, our world, the very earth, its very air, its water, its myriad life. No, show me no surprise, no innocent bewilderment. I see now with the eyes of the Abyss. I see now with my enemy's eyes, and so, I shall speak with its voice. Behold my friends, I am justice. And when at last we meet, you will not like it. And if irony awakens in you at the end, see me weep with these tears of jade, and answer with a smile. If you've the courage. Have you, my friends, the courage?"



"Ever had a child? I thought not, giving advice to a child is like flinging sand at an obsidian wall, nothing sticks. The brutal truth is that we each suffer our own lessons - they can't be danced round, nor slipped past. You cannot gift a child with your scars - they arrive like webs, constricting, suffocating, and that child will struggle and strain until they break. No matter how noble your intent, the only scars that teach them anything are the ones they earn themselves"




"Only now, it seemed, were they becoming aware of what they had in their Empress. Unflinching, a presence so solid they need not even have considered it. For all her faults it may be that it was she who held them all together. Now, with her gone, the break with the past was complete. Who was left to take the throne? Who could possibly fill that cold, hard, perilous seat, or would even dare?"




"New players, the same old tired rules - the wealth wagered never loses it's value, does it now? The heap of golden coins will not crumble, it will only grow bigger yet. As the players come and go, while the rules never change, does not that heap in fact command the game? Would you bow to this god of gold? This insensate illusion of value?"



"I expect they discovered rather quickly the curse of occupation. It acts like a newly opened wound, infecting and poisoning the oppressors and the oppressed alike. Both cultures become malformed, bitter with extremes. Hatred, fear, greed, betrayal, paranoia, and appalling indifference to suffering, but conquering, that is different. If one must grip hard in enemy territory, then that grip must be hidden - at the very cusp of local power, so no more than a handful is being strictly controlled. Everyone else, merchants, herders, farmers and tradefolk are to be shown better circumstances as quickly as possible. Conquer as a rogue wave, rule in silent ripples - the Emperor's own words"




"You blink, you lose that time forever. You can't be sure how long that blink lasted. A moment, a thousand years. You can't even know for sure that what you see now is the same as what you saw before. You can't. You think it is. You tell yourself that, convince yourself of that. Just a continuation of everything you knew before. What you see is still there. That's what you tell yourself. That's the game of reassurance your mind plays. To keep things sane. But think on that one blink - you've all known it - when all that you thought was real suddenly changes. From one side of the blink to the other. It comes with bad news. It comes with soul-wrenching horror and grief. How long was that blink? Gods below, it was fucking eternity"




"It was him. But you let him go. Maybe you thought he'd come back, or you'd just find him again. You thought you had the time. But the world's always armed and all it takes is a misstep, a wrong decision. And suddenly you're cut, you're bleeding, bleeding right out. Suddenly he's gasping out his last breaths and it's time to put him away, just close him up, like a scroll bearing bad news. What else can you do? It was him, but he's gone and he's not coming back"




"People spoke of ill luck. Mischance. They spoke of unruly spirits and vengeful gods. And some spoke of the most terrible truth of all - that the world and all life in it was nothing but a blind concatenation of random occurrences. Cause and effect did nothing but map out the absurdity of things, before which even the gods were helpless. Some truths could haunt, colder, crueler, than any ghost. Some truths were shaped by a mouth open in horror"




"On this dawn they lined the banks of the ancient river, a whole city turned out, near a hundred thousand, as the sun lifted east of the mouth that opened to the deep bay. What had brought them there? What ever brings the multitude to a moment, a place, an instant where a hundred thousand bodies become one body? As the red waters spilled into the bay's salty tears, they stood, saying little, and the great ship pyre took hold of the fires and the wind took hold of the soaked sails, and the sky took hold of the black column of smoke. Ehrlitan's great king was dead, the last of the Dessimb line, and the future was blowing sands, the storm's whisper was but a roar of strife made mercifully distant, a thing of promise drawing ever closer. They came to weep. They came seeking salvation, for in the end, even grief masks a selfish indulgence. We weep in our lives for the things lost to us, the worlds done. A great man was dead, but we cannot follow him - we dare not, for to each of us death finds a new path. An age was dead. The new age belonged the generations still to come. In the stalls of the market rounds the potters stacked bowls bearing the face of the dead king, with scenes of his past glories circling round and round, for ever outside of time, and this was the true wish of the multitudes. Stop. Stop now. Pray this day never ends. Pray the ashes drift forever. Pray tomorrow never comes. It is a natural desire, an honest wish. The tale dies, but this death will take some time. It is said the king lingered, there in the half breath. And people gathered at the palace gates, to weep, to dream of other ends, of fates denied. The tale dies, but this death will take some time. And the river's red tongue flows without end. And the spirit of the king said: 'I see you. I see you all' Can you not hear him? Hear him still?"




"There was no-one to see the hate-filled eyes peering out through every crack, every murder hole, every arrow slit - a thousand, ten thousand glittering eyes, seeing everything, the frenzied flicking as immobile objects were observed, gauged, and then discarded; as others were judged potentially useful as things, while unmoving, could be made to move. Seeing all, yes, absorbing and processing at speeds that would stun one of 'normal' intelligence - because this was something different, something alien, something almost perfect in its own way, by its own rules, by all the forces it could assemble, harbour, and then, when the time was appropriate, unleash upon a most unsuspecting world. The simple ones aren't simple. The broken ones aren't broken. They are rearranged. For better, for worse? Such judgements are without relevance. After all, imagine a world where virtually every mind is simpler than it imagines itself to be, or is so utterly broken that it is itself unaware of its own massive, stunning dysfunction. In such a world, life goes on, and madness thrives. Stupidity repeats. Behavivours destroy again and again, yet remain impervious to enlightenment. Crimes against humanity abound, and not one victimizer can even comprehend one day being the victim; not a single cruel soul understands that cruelty delivered yields cruelty repaid tenfold. It is enough to eat today and let tomorrow's children starve. Wealth ever promises protection against the strictures of an unkind, avaricious world, and yet fails to deliver on that promise every single time, be the slayer disease, betrayal, or the ravaging mobs of revolution. Wealth cannot comprehend that the very avarice it fears is its own creation, the toxic waste product of its own glorious exaltation. Imagine such a world, then - but oh, don't bother. Better to pity poor, dumb Chaur"



"They would not accept such as potential sacrifice - they would not see Rud Elalle risk his life in their name. No, they would accept their own annihilation, without a second thought. Yes, Udinaas knew these Imass. It was not pride that made them what they were. It was compassion. The tragic kind of compassion, the kind that sacrifices itself and sees that sacrifice as the only choice, and thus no choice at all, one that must be accepted without hesitation"




"No song lives upon a single note. But to a soldier, who had faced death for an eternity since the dawn, this grisly music was the sweetest music of all"


"To live a hard life was to make solid and impregnable every way in, until no openings remained and the soul hid in darkness, and no-one else could hear its screams, its railing at injustice, its long, agonizing stretches of sadness. Hardness without created hardness within. Sadness was, as she well knew, not something that could be cured. It was not, in fact, a failing, not a flaw, not an illness of spirit. Sadness was never without reason, and to assert that it marked some kind of dysfunction did little more than prove ignorance, or worse, cowardly evasiveness in the one making the assertion. As if happiness was the only legitimate way of being. As if those failing at it needed to be locked away, made soporific with medications; as if the causes of sadness were merely traps and pitfalls in the proper climb to blissful contentment, things to be edged around or bridged, or leapt across on wings of false elation. Too often people mistook the sadness in others for self-pity, and in so doing revealed their own hardness of spirit, and more than a little malice"



"Regrets? Yes, countless regrets. Perhaps one day you will see for yourself that regrets are as nothing - the value lies in how they are answered"



"The hand of vengeance stayed cold only so long. Any soul possessing a shred of humanity could not help but see the reality behind cruel deliverance, no matter how justified it might have at first seemed. Faces blank in death, bodies twisted in postures no-one unbroken could achieve, destroyed lives. Vengeance yielded a mirror to every atrocity, where notions of right and wrong blurred and lost all relevance. We are their match...in calculated brutality, but this is a war where nobody wins"



"People do not understand power. They view it exclusively as a contest, this against that; which is the greater? Which wins, which fails? Power is less about actual conflict - recognizing as it does the mutual damage conflict entails, with such damage making one vulnerable - less about actual conflict, then, than it is about statements. Presence is power's truest expression. And presence is, at its core, the occupation of space. An assertion, if you will. One that must be acknowledged by other powers, lesser or greater, it matters not. Now, if you still insist on simplistic comparison, then I tell you, power is as a stone in the stream. The water may dream of victory, may even yearn for it, but it had best learn patience, yes? Consider every dried stream bed you have seen, and judge who was the ultimate victor in that war of patience"



"Shake away all reason. These gathered instincts are not the end but the means. Rattle the chains if you must, but know that that which binds does not break, and the path is never as wayward as one might believe"

[rustyknfes]

Not my fav quote from DoD but it was an amazing way to end the book:
"And, looking out from mortal flesh once more, Hood who had once been the lord of death, found arrayed before him fourteen Jaghut warriors. They stood in the midst of frozen corpses, weapons out but lowered or resting across shoulders.
One spoke 'What was that war again?'
The others laughed.
The first one continued, 'Who was the enemy?'
The laughter this time was louder, longer.
'Who was our commander?'
Heads rocked back and the fourteen roared with mirth.
The first speaker shouted 'Does he live? Do we?'

But i find any conversations with jaghut amazing, especially hood, so this is probably biased.