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Hold to a thing long enough, a secret, a desire, maybe a lie, and it will shape you.

Mark Lawrence

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Mark Lawrence
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 28
Author
Novelist
the United States of America
Lying
Desire
Enough
Thing
Shape
Long
Shapes
Hold
Maybe
Secret

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Dark times call for dark choices. Choose me.
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If the sins of the flesh ever got old I didn't ever want enough years on me to know it.
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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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You're a Good Little Slave
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In the end it seems we're just toys,easy to break and hard to mend
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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've always felt that the placement of a man's testicles is an eloquent argument against intelligent design.
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And when pain bites, men bargain. Boys too. We twist and turn, we plead and beg, we offer our tormentors what he wants so that the hurting will stop. And when there is no torturer to placate, no hooded man with hot irons and tongs, just a burn you can't escape, we bargain with God, or ourselves, depending on the size of our egos.
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Questions for questions. You're a man who's spent time at court.
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Anything that you cannot sacrifice pins you. Makes you predictable, makes you weak.
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Four years and everything was the same, except me.
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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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Some truths should perhaps be left unsaid. Some doors unopened. An angel once told me to let go of the ills I held too close, to let go of the flaws that shaped me.
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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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I wanted to go home and if Hell rose up to stop me, it would make me desire it more.
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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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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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Let's go to Valhalla with the sun on our faces.
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All lives are tales. Some spread, and grow in the telling. Others are just told between us and the gods, muttered back and forth behind our days, but those tales grow too and shake us just as fierce.
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You can only win the game when you understand that it is a game. Let a man play chess, and tell him that every pawn is his friend. Let him think both bishops holy. Let him remember happy days in the shadows of his castles. Let him love his queen. Watch him lose them all.
Mark Lawrence