But how awful would that be? How terrible to live surrounded by the stark, sharp, hollowness of things that simply were enough?
Patrick RothfussRead
I wanted to tell her that she was the first beautiful thing I had seen in three years. That the sight of her yawning to the back of her hand was enough to drive the breath from me. How I sometimes lost the sense of her words in the sweet fluting of her voice. I wanted to say that if she were with me then somehow nothing could ever be wrong for me again.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote expresses deep admiration and affection towards someone special, emphasizing their impact on the speaker's life.
In this quote, the speaker conveys profound feelings of love and awe for an individual who brings beauty and joy into their life after a period of suffering. The vivid imagery of the person's actions and the expressive details highlight how their mere presence transforms the speaker's emotional state, suggesting that love has the power to heal and elevate one's spirit, making everything else seem insignificant.
Themes
LoveBeautyAdmirationPresenceTransformation
In practice
Example use cases
This quote could be shared at a wedding to highlight the beauty of love's impact on life.
More from Patrick Rothfuss
All quotes →Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating ... but there are other ways to understanding.
Patrick RothfussRead
Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts. There are seven words that will make a person love you. There are ten words that will break a strong man's will. But a word is nothing but a painting of a fire. A name is the fire itself.
Patrick RothfussRead
How odd to watch a mortal kindle / Then to dwindle day by day / Knowing their bright souls are tinder / And the wind will have its way
Patrick RothfussRead
All the truth in the world is held in stories.
Patrick RothfussRead
Music is a proud, temperamental mistress. Give her the time and attention she deserves, and she is yours. Slight her and there will come a day when you call and she will not answer. So I began sleeping less to give her the time she needed.
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Busy old fool, unruly sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains, call on us? Must to thy motions lovers'seasons run? Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide Late schoolboys, and sour prentices, Go tell court-huntsmen that the King will ride, Call countryants to harvest offices; Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
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