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12 pages, Audible Audio
First published October 1, 2023
“Ideals are like statues in the wind. They seem so permanent, but truth is, erosion happens subtly, constantly.”
“Nomad and the sky weren’t currently on speaking terms. But they’d been intimate for some time in the past, and he still knew his way around her place.”
“But he could still hear. And somehow, in shutting out the light— there within the blackness of his own design— he felt something. Something of the person he’d once been. Words once spoken. In a moment of glorious radiance.”
“The winds made him remember who he had been: a man who would have died before treating people as he’d done today. No, the storm did not offer him refuge. As much as he liked the rain— as much as it felt right to him— the memories were too painful.”
“He put his hands to his skull, digging his fingers into the skin. How could he run so hard and never get anywhere? The journey was supposed to be the important part, wasn’t it? Why, then, was he so miserable?”
“Conquest doesn’t remove countries… It removes lines on a map. Unity requires something else.”
“That depended. In Nomad’s experience, it wasn’t when life was utterly terrible that people rebelled. It instead happened when life improved to the point that people had time to think, time to wonder. The capacity to imagine.”
“Because… sometimes it’s not about you individually. Sometimes it’s about being a symbol. Sometimes you just adopt the name you’re given because it inspires people. I’ve seen it happen. Didn’t think it would happen to me.”
“This is one of my last chances to talk to many of you about the wonderful event that was the Kickstarter, so let me take an extra moment to tell you why I dedicated this book to you, the fans. I sincerely believe that books don’t live until they’re read. While I think I’d write even if nobody was reading— it’s who I am— I thrive because I know the stories are being brought to life by all of you. In this, stories are a special kind of art, particularly ones written down. Each of you imagines this book, and its characters, a little differently— each of you puts your own stamp on it, making it yours. I don’t think a story is quite finished until that has happened to it— until the dream in my head has become a reality (even if briefly) in yours. And so this book is yours, as are all of them once you read them. Thank you so much for bringing life to my work, and to the Cosmere.”
“You never get to be ready. You just have to move forward anyway.”
“He put his hands to his skull, digging his fingers into the skin. How could he run so hard and never get anywhere? The journey was supposed to be the important part, wasn’t it? Why, then, was he so miserable?”
“But he could still hear. And somehow, in shutting out the light— there within the blackness of his own design— he felt something. Something of the person he’d once been. Words once spoken. In a moment of glorious radiance.”