Quotes from Andrzej Sapkowski

You catch fear," Ciri repeated proudly, brushing her ashen fringe from her forehead. "Didn't you know? Even when something bad happens to you, you have to go straight back to that piece of equipment or you get frightened. And if you're frightened you'll be hopeless at the exercise. You mustn't give up. Geralt said so.

Popatrz jeno. KoÅ›cióÅ', karczma, bordel, a w Å›rodku miÄ™dzy nimi kupa gówna. Oto parabola ludzkiego ?ywota.

Well, what can I say, it's a base world,' he finally muttered. 'But that's no reason for us all to become despicable.

We won't manage to do much more than we're capable of,' he said more quietly and more warmly. 'But we shall all do our best to make sure it won't be much less.

when they're about to hang you, ask for a glass of water. You never know what might happen before they bring it.

Now you're lying, Dandelion.' 'Not lying, just embellishing, and there's a difference.

You won't do it.' Bonhart's voice resounded in the complete silence. 'You won't do it, witcher girl. In Kaer Morhen you were taught how to kill, so you kill like a machine. Instinctively. To kill yourself you need character, strength, determination and courage. And they couldn't teach you that.

Become a priest. You wouldn't be bad at it with all your scruples, your morality, your knowledge of people and of everything. The fact that you don't believe in any gods shouldn't be a problem—I don't know many priests who do.

Because I've overcome the vanity and pride of being different. I've understood that they are a pitiful defense against being different. Because I've understood that the sun shines differently when something changes, but I'm not the axis of those changes.

Confundí el cielo con las estrellas reflejadas por la noche en la superficie de un estanque.

Destiny isn't the judgements of providence, isn't scrolls written by the hand of a demiurge, isn't fatalism. Destiny is hope. Being full of hope, believing that what is meant to happen will happen.

Mylisz niebo z gwiazdami odbitymi nocÄ… na powierzchni stawu.

For I must tell you, gentle reader, that Geralt the Witcher was always a modest, prudent and composed man, with a soul as simple and uncomplicated as the shaft of a halberd.

Then, four years later I received news from Aridea. She'd tracked down the little one, who was living in Mahakam with seven gnomes whom she'd managed to convince it was more profitable to rob merchants on the roads than to pollute their lungs with dust from the mines.

Life is full of hazards, selection also occurs in life, Geralt. Misfortune, sicknesses and wars also select. Defying destiny may be just as hazardous as succumbing to it.

It was a ceremonial supper. For they were going to part in the morning. In the morning each of them was going to go their own way; in search of something they already had. But they did not know they had it, they could not even imagine it. They could not imagine where the roads they were meant to set off on the next morning would lead. Each of them travelling separately.

Prawda jest córÄ… czasu poczÄ™tÄ… w przypadkowym i krótkotrwaÅ'ym romansie ze zbiegiem okolicznoÅ›ci.

Yes, we are corpses. But you are death. Ciri

Geralt uniósÅ' kufel. ZnaÅ' siÄ™ z wieloma krasnoludami, wiedziaÅ', jak siÄ™ przepija i jak wznosi toasty. - Za pomyÅ›lno?? sprawy sÅ'usznej! - A na pohybel skurwysynom! - dopowiedziaÅ' krasnolud, stukajÄ…c kuflem o jego kufel.

Ka?dy sen, ten czarowny i pi?kny, zbyt d?ugo ?niony zamienia si? w koszmar. A z takiego budzimy si? z krzykiem.

The Witcher had a knife to his throat. He was wallowing in a wooden tub, brimfull with soapsuds, his head thrown agains the slippery rim. The bitter taste of soap lingered in his mouth as the knife, blunt as a doorknob, scraped his Adam's apple painfully and moved towards his chin with a grating sound.

I like elven legends, they are so captivating. What a pity humans don't have any legends like that. Perhaps one day they will? Perhaps they'll create some? But what would human legends deal with? All around, wherever one looks, there's greyness and dullness. Even things which begin beautifully lead swiftly to boredom and dreariness, to that human ritual, that wearisome rhythm called life.

I shit on justice!" yelled the mayor, not caring if there were any voters under the window.

Shani smiled even more beautifully and Dandilion was once more filled with the desire to finally compose a ballad about girls like her – not too pretty but nonetheless beautiful, girls of whom one dreams at night when those of classical beauty are forgotten after five minutes.