Valaritas

I wanted to say something. I wanted to say it didn’t bother me, but that would be a lie. I wanted to tell her all that really mattered to me was that she came back, but I was worried that might be too much truth.
So rather than risk saying the wrong thing, I said nothing. I knew what happened to the men who clung to her too tightly. That was the difference between me and the others. I did not clutch at her, try to own her. I did not slip my arm around her, murmur in her ear, or kiss her unsuspecting cheek.
Certainly, I thought of it. I still remembered the warmth of her when she had thrown her arms around me near the horse lift. There were times I would have given my right hand to hold her again. 
But then I thought of the faces of the other men when they realised Denna was leaving them. I thought of all the others who had tried to tie her to the ground and failed. So I resisted showing her the songs and poems I had written, knowing that too much truth can ruin a thing.
And if that meant she wasn’t entirely mine, what of it? I would be the one she could return to without fear of recrimination or question. So I did not try to win her and contented myself with playing a beautiful game.
But there was always a part of me that hoped for more, and so there was a part of me that was always a fool.

—Kvothe, The Wise Man’s Fear - Patrick Rothfuss (via chasethedawn)

(via emiscoolerthanyou)

‎”Lovely as the moon: not flawless, perhaps, but perfect.

—Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind (via writingstruggles)

(via wj-paperstax)