As I continue reading The Name of the Wind, I keep noticing Patrick Rothfuss drop small wisdom nuggets in each chapter.
Some of them apply to the real world:
On doing business with a tinker:
Still, it’s never wise to look eager to sell.The Name of the Wind: 10th Anniversary Deluxe Edition, pg 524. Patrick Rothfuss
On negotiating for a horse:
I spoke with certainty in my voice, but no hope in my heart. He was a gorgeous animal, and his coloring made him worth at least twenty talents. Still I’d go through the motions and hope to squeeze the man down to nineteen. The Name of the Wind: 10th Anniversary Deluxe Edition, pg 519, 520. Patrick Rothfuss
On using common sense when dating:
I might not be one of you University folk, but I can see the moon on a clear night. I’m smart enough not to stick my hand in the same fire twice. The Name of the Wind: 10th Anniversary Deluxe Edition, pg 491 Patrick Rothfuss
The night is like warm velvet around them. The stars, burning diamond in the cloudless sky, turn the road beneath their feet a silver grey. The University and Imre are the hearts of understanding and art, the strongest of the four corners of civilization. Here on the road between the two there is nothing but old trees and long grass bending to the wind. The night is perfect in a wild way, almost terrifyingly beautiful.
The three boys, one dark, one light, and one-for lack of a better word-fiery, do not notice the night. Perhaps some part of them does, but they are young and drunk, and busy knowing deep in their hearts that they will ever grow old or die. They also know that they are friends, and they share a certain love that will never leave them. The boys know many other things, but none of them seem as important as this. Perhaps they are right. The Name of the Wind. By Patrick Rothfuss, pg 412, chapter 59
What Patrick describes here is that one perfect night in your twenties, when you and your buddies are coming home from a night on the town.
The only missing part of the description is a Waffle House.
I had to add this to my online common place book:
“Remember this, son, if you forget everything else. A poet is a musician who can’t sing. Words have to find a man’s mind before they can touch his heart, and some men’s minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly no matter how small or stubborn the mind of the man who listens.”The Name of the Wind. Patrick Rothfuss. pg 106