When one considers such ancient times one’s only recourse is the language of poetry. Thus legends, myths, creation accounts, history. All are no more than stories shaped to justify the present appearance of things.

The heart was where people truly lived, and died.

Paradise would be a city where pearls cobble roads and gems serve as playthings for children. And why? Not because all will be so wealthy, but because its citizens will have recognized that such things truly are toys.

Sarge?’ ‘What?’ ‘I was thinkin’ – ’ ‘How many times I gotta tell you not to do that, son. Bad for your health.

Tyranny remains because the weak and fearful seek it.

The problem with paths is that once you have chosen one, You cannot choose the others. Attributed to Gothos.

The Malazan way,’ he breathed. ‘The murderer’s touch. A brush of cloth. A sip of wine. The gleam of a blade as fine as a snake’s tooth. Your name whispered just as you fall into sleep.

He knew that music spoke to the emotions, not the intellect. The heart was where people truly lived, and died. He also knew that this magic that music and poetry were said to possess was the power to touch that heart.

Xethel laughed again, though rather nervously this time. ‘Then I name you Amman-an-ash. The One Who Would Know Everything.’ She nodded in Dancer’s direction. ‘And you I name Coth-tel-ish-ath. The One Who Watches and Judges.

The superstitions of the ignorant are no concern of mine.