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Quote by Robert Jordan

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The Shadow Rising

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Robert Jordan
Robert Jordan

Robert Jordan was an American author best known for his epic fantasy novel series, 'The Wheel of Time'. His works are celebrated for their complex characters, richly developed worlds, and profound philosophical themes. more

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“What do you mean, you knew that I was going to speak the words?” [...] “Your name is Matrim. What did you mean?” He sighed. The woman never wanted much. Just her own way. Like just about every other woman he had ever known. “I went through a ter’angreal to somewhere else, another world maybe. The people there aren’t really people—they look like snakes—but they’ll answer three questions for you, and their answers are always true. One of mine was that I’d marry the Daughter of the Nine Moons. But you haven’t answered my question.”

“Toy, are you ill?” Tuon brought the mare close and peered up into his face. Concern filled her big eyes. “You’ve gone pale as the moon.” “I’m right as spring water,” he muttered. She was close enough for him to kiss if he bent his head, but he did not move. He could not. He was thinking so furiously he had nothing left for motion. Somehow only the Light knew, the Eelfinn had gathered the memories they had planted in his head, but how could they harvest memory from a corpse? A corpse in the world of men, at that. He was certain they never came to this side of that twisted doorframe ter’angreal for longer than minutes at a time. A way occurred to him, one he did not like, not a scrap. Maybe they created some sort of link to any human who visited them, a link that allowed them to copy all of a man’s memories after that right up to the moment he died. In some of those memories from other men he was white-haired, in some only a few years older than he really was, and everything in between, but there were none of childhood or growing up. What were the odds of that, if they had just stuffed him with random bits and pieces, likely things they considered rubbish or had done with? What did they do with memories, anyway? They had to have some reason for gathering them beyond giving them away again. No, he was just trying to avoid where this led. Burn him, the bloody foxes were inside his head right then! They had to be. It was the only explanation that made sense.”

“What else did she tell you about—” Thom began, then cut off with a frown. “What ails you, Mat? You look about to sick up.” What ailed him was his memory, and not the other men’s memories for once. Those had been stuffed into him to fill holes in his own memories, which they did and more, or so it seemed. He certainly remembered many more days than he had lived. But whole stretches of his own life were lost to him, and others were like moth-riddled blankets or shadowy and dim. He had only spotty memories of fleeing Shadar Logoth, and very vague recollections of escaping on Domon’s rivership, but one thing seen on that voyage stood out. A tower shining like burnished steel. Sick up? His stomach wanted to empty itself. “I think I know where that tower is, Thom. Rather, Domon knows. But I can’t go with you. The Eelfinn will know I’m coming, maybe the Aelfinn, too. Burn me, they might already know about this letter, because I read it. They might know every word we’ve said. You can’t trust them. They’ll take advantage if they can, and if they know you’re coming, they’ll be planning to do just that. They’ll skin you and make harnesses for themselves from your hide.” His memories of them were all his own, but they were more than enough to support the judgment.”

“On the Flight Deck this afternoon, a young plane captain, his mind obviously preoccupied with other matters, walked directly in front of an F-8 intake as the bird was turning up. He was instantly sucked off his feet and pulled down into the jet turbine tunnel. Fortunately, someone saw it happen and frantically signaled for the pilot to cut his engine. Once silenced, two squadron crew members crawled into the intake to rescue the dumb shit or what was left of him. They found his body wrapped around the generator hump directly in front of the turbine blades. He had miraculously avoided being chopped to pieces like steak in a meat grinder.”

“George continued without skipping a beat, “Modern civilisation can be traced to the Middle East and particularly the area now known as Iraq and the ongoing discoveries in and around Türkiye near Gobekli Tempe takes the possible origins of civilisations much further back to around 12000 BCE and probably even further back. When you look at ancient and modern maps, it dawns on you that the region, with what is now called Syria and Lebanon right in the centre, shaped our modern world in fundamental ways, from the food we eat to how we mastered words and numbers. Like it or not, civilisation as we know and practise today arose squarely in the Middle East. It resonates with life, learning, culture, science, war, death, and conflict. Not boring. In fact, the rest of the world cannot seem to get enough of this region, or more precisely, its black gold riches. It has dominated world affairs since possibly around 12000BCE and today still captures news media every single day. It is here where we humans learned to farm and domesticate animals. Where we learnt to count and work with metals, build houses and create staggering architectural marvel. It is at once an exotic and alluring destination with aromatic and delicious foods, but also bristling with tensions, conspiracies, and centuries old feuds that don’t end. It is inescapably a fascinating region and rightly has a claim to be the centre of the world.”