No matter where she stood, she was in the center of the room. Do not misunderstand. She was not loud, or vain. We stare at a fire because it flickers, because it glows. The light is what catches our eyes, but what makes a man lean close to a fire has nothing to do with its bright shape. What draws you to a fire is the warmth you feel when you come near. The same was true of Denna.
‘As Kvothe spoke, his expression twisted, as if each word he spoke rankled him more and more. And while the words were clear, they matched his expression, as if each one was rasped with a rough file before it left his mouth.’
‘Kvothe’s head was bowed so low he seemed to be speaking to his hands laying in his lap.’
What am I doing?
‘He said faintly, as if his mouth was full of grey ash.’
What good can come of this? How can I make any sense of her for you when I have never understood the least piece of her myself?
|—||The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss (via ohwaitforme)|