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Four years and everything was the same, except me.
Mark Lawrence
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Mark Lawrence
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 28
Author
Novelist
the United States of America
Years
Except
Four
Everything
More quotes by Mark Lawrence
I may be running out of options, but running out isn't an option.
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Few things worth having can be got easily.
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Anything that you cannot sacrifice pins you. Makes you predictable, makes you weak.
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Let's go to Valhalla with the sun on our faces.
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I think maybe we die every day. Maybe we're born new each dawn, a little changed, a little further on our own road. When enough days stand between you and the person you were, you're strangers. Maybe that's what growing up is. Maybe I have grown up.
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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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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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I maintain a balanced view of the world, but that balance is always in my favour.
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Take a rest and the world catches up with you. Lesson in life--keep moving.
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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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Hold to a thing long enough, a secret, a desire, maybe a lie, and it will shape you.
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Dark times call for dark choices. Choose 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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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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She'll never love you better than she loves her own children.
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A strange thing — nails will hold a building together, but there's nothing better for taking a man apart.
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We can't be trapped by fear. Lives lived within such walls are just slower deaths.
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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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I think you need to have lived more to truly know a man's heart. You need to have made more transactions in life to know the worth of the coin you spend so freely
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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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