To Lack Feeling Is To

When Men Fought, They Connected. You Became Brothers As You Traded Blows.

I Think Given The Choice Between Loving Mare - Betrayal Included - And Never Knowing Her, I'd Chose Love. I Risked, And I Lost, But The Risk Was Still Worth It.

Kelsier Smiled. 'it Means That You, Vin, Are A Very Special Person. You Have A Power That Most High Noblemen Envy. It Is A Power That, Had You Been Born An Aristocrat, Would Have Made You One Of The Most Deadly And Influential People In All Of The Final Empire.' Kelsier Leaned Forward Again. 'but, You Weren't Born An Aristocrat. You're Not Noble, Vin. You Don't Have To Play By Their Rules--and That Makes You Even More Powerful.

What Wasdat, Sir? What Wazzat Sir? What Wassat, Sir?” “wayne, What Are You Babbling About?” Waxillium Asked. “practicing My Pretzel Guy,” Wayne Said. “he Had A Great Accent...” Waxillium Glanced At Him. "that Hat Looks Ridiculous.” “fortunately, I Can Change Hats,” Wayne Said In The Pretzel-guy Accent, “while You, Sir, Are Stuck With That Face.

How Did Men Believe In Something That Preached Love On One Hand, Yet Taught Destruction Of Unbelievers On The Other? How Did One Rationalize Belief With No Proof? How Could They Honestly Expect Him To Have Faith In Something That Taught Of Miracles And Wonders In The Far Past, But Carefully Gave Excuses For Why Such Things Didn't Occur In The Present Day?