When Men Fought, They Connected.

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.

Remember, The Past Need Not Become Our Future As Well.

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.

Do Not Dash If You Only Have The Strength To Walk, And Do Not Waste Your Time Pushing On The Walls That Will Not Give. More Importantly, Don't Shove Where A Pat Would Be Sufficient.

Men Had Always Told Kaladin That He Fought Like Nobody Else. He’d Felt It On The First Day He’d Picked Up A Quarterstaff, Though Tukks’s Advice Had Helped Him Refine And Channel What He Could Do. Kaladin Had Cared When He Fought. He’d Never Fought Empty Or Cold. He Fought To Keep His Men Alive