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Quote by Brandon Sanderson

Work

The Way of Kings

In this expansive fantasy series, a vast and detailed world is revealed, filled with powerful magic and complex political machinations. The story follows a diverse cast of characters as they navigate a world on the brink of war, with each character's journey intertwining in unexpected ways. more

Author

Brandon Sanderson
Brandon Sanderson

Brandon Sanderson, born in December 1975, is a renowned science fiction and fantasy writer in the United States. His works are known for their rich imagination, complex character development, and profound philosophical insights. His representative works include the 'Mistborn' trilogy and the 'The Stormlight Archive' series, among others. more

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“I’m gonna come home, Mom, even if it’s not forever. I can take a semester off and then decide if I’ll go back next year. You guys need me here. It might be hard for Dad, and I—” “You’ll do no such thing,” Dad said, his voice raspy. “We didn’t mean to wake you,” Mom replied. “You didn’t. I always wake up when I’m needed.” Dad’s eyes on me were intense. “You’re not comin’ home.” “You’ve said it yourself, I belong here. You’re my family, and I’m supposed to be working this farm with you.” The words were heavy in my chest. “No, son. You don’t belong here. And not because we don’t love you or want you. You’re too damn bright a light for this place, and the last thing I want is to go to my grave knowing that my dreams for you dimmed that light.” “Dad… I…” I didn’t know what to say. Or what to feel, other than loved. “Nearly dying does a thing to a fella. I just… When I was goin’ down, all I was thinkin’ was, what if I died and my boy thinks I don’t love him? Don’t accept him? And listenin’ to you with your mama right now…you talk about that boyfriend of yours the way I always talked about her. Couldn’t believe she would give me the time a day, if I’m being honest. But I loved her and she loved me, and you love that boy just the same.”

“My Aunt Beverly sashayed when she walked. ... Her walk made the local boys sweat, well until those 'boys' were octogenarians. Anything she carried in her back pocket would have been as happily dizzy as a kid on a carnival ride. She sashayed like a Southern belle born in a time of dungarees and pedal pushers rather than restrictive skirts and social mores; she sashayed like a beautiful woman who was feeling sassy. She WAS beautiful, and she was sassy more often than not.”