The Wheel of Time. Book 7. Crown of Swords

“Take care of yourselves, and look sharp,” he said. “You know what’s out there. There’s a storm coming.” Now why had he said that? “Move. We’re wasting light.”

Birgitte gave Elayne a fond look, but it was to Mat she spoke. “I will,” she said. “Honor’s truth.”

Mat tugged at his coat uncomfortably. He still was not sure how much he had told her while drunk. Light, but the woman could soak it up like dry sand. Even so, he gave the proper response for a Barashandan lord, accepting her pledge. “The honor of blood; the truth of blood.”

“I don’t bloody care about your bargains with anybody else, you daughter of the sands,” Mat snapped. So his irritation was not that well under control. A man could only take so much.

It is the enemy you underestimate who kills you.

If you don’t know everything, you must go on with what you do know,

Outraged innocence was one of the things men did best, especially when they were guilty as foxes in the henyard.

Life is a dream — that knows no shade.
Life is a dream — of pain and woe.
A dream from which — we pray to wake.
A dream from which — we wake and go.

Who would sleep — when the new dawn waits?
Who would sleep — when the sweet winds blow?
A dream must end — when the new day comes.
This dream from which — we wake and go.