Abaixo algumas frases de efeito ao ler o livro The Trouble With Peace de Joe Abercrombie:
“Aye,” said Broad, pushing his lenses up his nose. She did look beautiful. Everything looked beautiful. Even them. He’d never seen his wife and his daughter look so fine, so well fed, so happy. It’s easy to scream about the fence when you’re on the wrong side of it. Some mad twist of fortune lands you on the right side, though, the fence starts to look like it might not be such a bad idea. Might even be worth all the sacrifices. Other people’s sacrifices aren’t that hard to make.
“Never fear your enemy,” said Savine, “but always respect him. Stolicus, I believe? If we mean to risk everything, we cannot simply assume our enemies will fail. We must stack the deck so heavily in our favour that we can only win.”
And loyalty? A trick those with power played on those without to make them act against their own interests.
She looked thoughtfully up at him. Quite a long way up, since she was standing downhill. “My da told me vengeance was an empty chest you have to go bent under the weight of. He told me to let it go.”
His head hurt. His jacket felt all sticky inside. Bloody hell, was he wounded? Or was it someone else’s blood? That’s the thing about blood. King’s or commoner’s, everyone’s looks much the same.
No one up here would be much use in a fight. Curnsbick had his hands pressed to his horrified face. Kort had scrambled for the rear. Funny, when death’s on the table, how vitally important it seems that one be killed last.
There’d been enough bloody talk. What he needed to do was do. But one thing he’d learned over the last year–before you draw your sword, you need to know how you’ll win.
The thing about killing a man–you could do it in a moment. Bringing him around to your way of thinking took so much patience. And how could you even tell when it was done? Kill a man, he stayed dead. Change his mind, he always had the bloody chance to change it back.
Stour had flung himself into the midst, o’ course. Up front where tomorrow’s songs were made, carving himself a legend. The Great Wolf was brave, no doubt. But bravery and folly never had too big a gulf between ‘em.
Clover caught him by the jaw and hissed the words in his face. “Giving you your last lesson. Those big names o’ the past you’re always wanking over. Shama Heartless. Black Dow. The Bloody-Nine. The dead know they were bastards, but they earned those names. They tore ‘em from the world with their hands and their will. Nightfall?” Clover turned his head and spat into the sea. “What the fuck is that? You were born with it. All you have you’ve been handed. Well, here’s the thing, boy…” And he caught hold of that big diamond and tore the great chain that Bethod once wore over Stour’s head. “What’s easily given… is easily took away.”