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There’s something brittle in me that will break before it bends.

Mark Lawrence

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Mark Lawrence
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 28
Author
Novelist
the United States of America
Break
Something
Brittle
Bends

More quotes by Mark Lawrence

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There's a road to hell that is paved with good intentions but it's a long route. The quicker path is paved with the kind of ignorance that clever men who just don't want to know are best at.
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Humanity can be divided into madmen and cowards. My personal tragedy is in being born into a world where sanity is held to be a character flaw.
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Questions for questions. You're a man who's spent time at court.
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Let's go to Valhalla with the sun on our faces.
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It was a defeat, resorting to crude threats in a game of subtlety, but sometimes one must sacrifice a battle to win the war.
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I’ll tell you now. That silence almost beat me. It’s the silence that scares me. It’s the blank page on which I can write my own fears. The spirits of the dead have nothing on it. The dead one tried to show me hell, but it was a pale imitation of the horror I can paint on the darkness in a quiet moment.
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Dark times call for dark choices. Choose me.
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Confusing the author and the character seems to be a popular and rather unsophisticated reaction to books.
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Sometime, It's easier to love someone with flaws you can forgive in return for them forgiving yours.
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I may be running out of options, but running out isn't an option.
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When you're in a dark place, and your light is going to run out before too long, you get on with things. It's a wonder to me how few people apply that same logic to their lives.
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A fool may scrawl on a slate and if no one has the wit to wipe it clean for a thousand years, the scrawl becomes the wisdom of ages.
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Each day the memories weigh a little heavier. Each day they drag you down that bit further. You wind them around you, a single thread at a time, and you weave your own shroud, you build a cocoon, and in it madness grows.
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Do you know why the leaves change colour?... Before a tree sheds a leaf it pumps it full of all the poison it can't rid itself of otherwise. That red there--that's a man's skin blotching with burst veins after an assassin spikes his last meal with roto-weed. The poison spreading through him before he dies.
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I wanted to go home and if Hell rose up to stop me, it would make me desire it more.
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Some men are too dull to feel what might happen. Others torture themselves with maybes and populate their dreams with horrors more terrible than their worst enemy could inflict upon them.
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You soon learn there’s no elegance or dignity in death if you spend time in the castle kitchens. You learn how ugly it is, and how good it tastes.
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Four years and everything was the same, except me.
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Hold to a thing long enough, a secret, a desire, maybe a lie, and it will shape you.
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It is purity of spirit that will keep corruption from the flesh
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