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“Sane is boring.”
― R. A. Salvatore

“Because of the friends I have known, the honorable people I have met, I know I am no solitary hero of unique causes. I know now that when I die, I will live on. That which is important will live on. This is my Legacy; and by the grace of the gods, I am not alone.”
― R.A. Salvatore

“â€� Reality is a curious thing. Truth is not as solid and universal as any of us would like it to be; selfishness guides perception, and perception invites justification. The physical image in the mirror, if not pleasing, can be altered by the mere brush of fingers through hair.

And so it is true that we can manipulate our own reality. We can persuade, even deceive. We can make others view us in dishonest ways. We can hide selfishness with charity, make a craving for acceptance into magnanimity, and amplify our smile to coerce a hesitant lover. The world is illusion, and often delusion, as victors write the histories and the children who die quietly under the stamp of a triumphant army never really existed. The robber baron becomes philanthropist in the final analysis, by bequeathing only that for which he had no more use. The king who sends young men and women to die becomes beneficent with the kiss of a baby. Every problem becomes a problem of perception to those who understand that reality, in reality, is what you make reality to be.

This is the way of the world, but it is not the only way.”
― R.A. Salvatore, Road of the Patriarch

“Yap, yap little dog.”
― Paul S. Kemp

“There have been many times in my life when I have felt helpless. It is perhaps the most acute pain a person can know, founded in frustration and ventless rage. The nick of sword upon a battling soldier’s arm cannot compare to the anguish a prisoner feels at
the crack of a whip. Even if the whip does not strike the helpless prisoner’s body, it surely cuts deeply at his soul.
We all are prisoners at one time or another in our lives, prisoners to ourselves or to the expectations of those around us. It is a burden that all people endure, that all people despise, and that few people ever learn to escape.”
― R.A. Salvatore, Exile

“In my stubborn youth, I believed that I could stand alone, that I was strong enough to conquer my enemies with sword and with principles. Arrogance convinced me that by sheer determination, I could conquer helplessness itself. Stubborn and foolish youth, I
must admit, for when I look back on those years now, I see quite clearly that rarely did I stand alone and rarely did I have to stand alone. Always there were friends, true and dear, lending me support even when I believed I did not want it, and even when I did
not realize they were doing it.”
― R.A. Salvatore, Exile

“The closest I ever got to Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms was when I bought the box game set for the latter (I think this was before the novels came out). I well recall this—we were living in James Bay, in Victoria. We opened the box up and took out the maps while sitting in a Mexican restaurant. Ten minutes later I was as close as I have ever been to publicly burning someone else’s creation…What bothered us was the reworking of every fantasy cliché imaginable, all in one package now, and none of it made sense.”
― Steven Erikson

“Friendship: the word has come to mean many different things among the various races and cultures of both the Underdark and the surface of the Realms. In Menzoberranzan, friendship is generally born out of mutual profit. While both parties are better off for the union, it remains secure. But loyalty is not a tenet of drow life, and as soon as a friend believes that he will gain more without the other, the union - and likely the other's life - will come to a swift end.
I have had few friends in my life, and if I live a thousand years, I suspect that this will remain true. There is little to lament in this fact, though, for those who have called me friend have been persons of great character and have enriched my existence, given it worth. First there was Zaknafein, my father and mentor who showed me that I was not alone and that I was not incorrect in holding to my beliefs. Zaknafein saved me, from both the blade and the chaotic, evil, fanatic religion that damns my people.
Yet I was no less lost when a handless deep gnome came into my life, a svirfneblin that I had rescued from certain death, many years before, at my brother Dinin's merciless blade. My deed was repaid in full, for when the svirfneblin and I again met, this time in the clutches of his people, I would have been killed - truly would have preferred death - were it not for Belwar Dissengulp.
My time in Blingdenstone, the city of the deep gnomes, was such a short span in the measure of my years. I remember well Belwar's city and his people, and I always shall.
Theirs was the first society I came to know that was based on the strengths of community, not the paranoia of selfish individualism. Together the deep gnomes survive against the perils of the hostile Underdark, labor in their endless toils of mining the stone, and play games that are hardly distinguishable from every other aspect of their rich lives.
Greater indeed are pleasures that are shared.

- Drizzt Do'Urden”
― R.A. Salvatore, Exile

“The guilt faded quickly, though â€� not because I came to excuse myself for any failure, but because I came to realize that my true failure was in making the vow, not in breaking it.”
― R. A. Salvatore (Author)

“When an entire world had abandoned us, or at least while we felt like that, and even when nasty ogres killed my monk and Arnd's chevalier the brutal way, gathering to be a group of heroes & heroines gave us the recovery and idealism to live-on nonetheless.

I had hate, contempt, puzzled looks, and sometimes even understanding for those mainstreamers who knew nothing but sex about adulthood. As I have the roots of a European Barbarian who shared his tales at the campfire (old way of books) PLUS knowing that the intimicy of a mature relationship can be spoiled by sex, but it can never be built and maintained by sex alone...

Nah, much to contemplative and honest. Let's link-in some light-hearted fun:

Mikey Mason, over at youtube dot come has the songs 'Best Game Ever, and Summer of 83'...”
― Andrè M. Pietroschek

“When an entire world had abandoned us, or at least while we felt like that, and even when nasty ogres killed my monk and Arnd's chevalier the brutal way, gathering to be a group of heroes & heroines gave us the recovery and idealism to live-on nonetheless.

I had hate, contempt, puzzled looks, and sometimes even understanding for those mainstreamers who knew nothing but sex about adulthood. As I have the roots of a European Barbarian who shared his tales at the campfire (old way of books) PLUS knowing that the intimacy of a mature relationship can be spoiled by sex, but it can never be built and maintained by sex alone...

Nah, much to contemplative and honest. Let's link-in some light-hearted fun:

Mikey Mason, over at youtube dot com has the songs 'Best Game Ever, and Summer of 83'...”
― Andrè M. Pietroschek, Attempted Poetry

“Montolio tilted his head helplessly against Drizzt's unending stream of pessimism. It pained him deeply to see the good-hearted drow so scarred. 'He might indeed,' Montolio said, a bit more harshly than he had intended, 'but the loss of life is only great to those who chance to live it! Let your arrow come in low and catch the huddler on the ground, I say. His death would not be so tragic!”
― R.A.Salvatore

“She cast about for her next adversary. She didn't seem to have one. The fight was over, and the few surviving hobgoblins were running away.

"Form up!" she shouted. "I want a column with the traders in the middle. Fast!"

Once the procession was under way, Aunrae, striding along at Greyanna's side, asked, "May I know where we're going? An ally's castle?"

"No," Greyanna replied. "I suspect we couldn't get in. We're going to hide our charges in Bauthwaf."

The column crept past corpses and burning stone, and as they made their way to the cavern wall, other commoners came running out of their homes to join the procession. Greyanna's first impulse was to turn away those without ties to House Mizzrym, but she thought better of it. Many of the newcomers carried swords, and she could press the dolts into martial service if needed.

Occasionally someone collapsed, coughing feebly, poisoned by the stinging smoke. The rest stepped over her and pressed on.

Someone gave a thin, high cry, as if at an unexpected pain. Greyanna spun around. The goblins weren't attacking. Her client the canoe maker had simply seized his opportunity to knife another male in the back.

"A competitor," the craftsman explained.”
― Richard Lee Byers, Dissolution

“Honestly, no editor ever said to me that [Forgotten] Realms fiction was targeted at the YA market, and I didn’t think of it that way.”
― Richard Lee Byers