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1 " Everyone lives in two worlds,” Maggie said, speaking in an absentminded sort of way while she studied her letters. “There’s the real world, with all its annoying facts and rules. In the real world, there are things that are true and things that aren’t. Mostly the real world s-s-s-suh-sucks. But everyone also lives in the world inside their own head. An inscape, a world of thought. In a world made of thought—in an inscape—every idea is a fact. Emotions are as real as gravity. Dreams are as powerful as history. Creative people, like writers, and Henry Rollins, spend a lot of their time hanging out in their thoughtworld. S-s-strong creatives, though, can use a knife to cut the stitches between the two worlds, can bring them together. Your bike. My tiles. Those are our knives. "
― Joe Hill , NOS4A2
2 " Not so long ago we were all a tightly knit group of friends. Too bad someone had ripped apart the stitches that held us together, unraveling the cozy blanket of our friendship and leaving just enough strands to hang ourselves with. "
― E.J. Stevens
3 " If we were scars, our memories would be the stitches holding us together. You couldn't cut them apart, and if you did, it would tear you in two." " But my memories hurt," she said. " I want to forget. There's so much I just want to forget." " How are you going to do that ? Everything that's happened to you is still happening today. Once something has begun, it doesn't end. There, in your head, it never ends. "
4 " I have a lot of boo-boos, cowboy." " Maybe I should kiss them." He leaned forward, brushed his lips against her forehead, just above the stitches over her eyebrow.She held up her arm where there was an abrasion. " Hurts here too." He kissed the spot." And here." She pointed to her mouth.He kissed her with a pressure as light as the brush of a butterfly's wing.She thought of a hundred places on her body she wanted him to kiss. " I hurt all over. "
5 " If you are eager to find the reason I became the Kvothe they tell stories about, you could look there, I suppose." Chronicler's forehead wrinkled. " What do you mean, exactly?" Kvothe paused for a long moment, looking down at his hands. " Do you know how many times I've been beaten over the course of my life?" Chronicler shook his head.Looking up, Kvothe grinned and tossed his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. " Neither do I. You'd think that sort of thing would stick in a person's mind. You'd think I would remember how many bones I've had broken. You'd think I'd remember the stitches and bandages." He shook his head. " I don't. I remember that young boy sobbing in the dark. Clear as a bell after all these years." Chronicler frowned. " You said yourself that there was nothing you could have done." " I could have," Kvothe said seriously, " and I didn't. I made my choice and I regret it to this day. Bones mend. Regret stays with you forever. "
