Character: Geralt of Rivia

- Haha, wonderful mask, you can take it off and no one will notice the difference.

You live with mine, all the names start to sound the same.

You are pitifully funny with your stolen bags of seeds on pack horses, with a handful of grain, with those crumbs that you intend to survive on. And with your mission, which only serves to distract your thoughts from impending doom. After all, you know that this is already the end. Nothing will rise and be born on the plateaus, nothing will save you. But you are durable, you will live a long, very long time in your own and arrogantly chosen isolation, weakening, few in number, more and more embittered. And you know what's going to happen, Filavandrel. Do you know that then desperate youths with the eyes of centennial elders and faded, childless and sick, like Toruviel, the girls will lead to the valleys those who can still hold the sword and bow in their hands. You will descend into the flowering valleys to meet death, wishing to die with dignity, in battle, and not in beds, on which anemia, tuberculosis and scurvy will tumble you. And then, long-liver Aen Seidhe, you will remember me. Remember that I felt sorry for you. And you will understand that I was right.

He just avenges all the injustices that the elves experienced from people, - the witcher grinned wryly. “He doesn't care who to take revenge on. Do not be fooled by noble appearance and exquisite speech, Buttercup. He is no different from the black-eyed one who kicked us. He needs to discharge his impotent hatred on someone.

Do not be afraid, we will beat off your hakhalya, it is better not to spoil with us, if only he remains intact ... Wow Geralt, I would say in rhyme, but it is not allowed to be with a lady.

Stregebor, - said Geralt. - This is the world. When you travel, you see a lot. Two are fighting over the border in the middle of the field, which tomorrow will be trampled by the horses of the squads of the two local counts, eager to destroy each other. Gallows hang in the trees along the roads, robbers cut the throats of merchants in the woods. In the cities, every now and then you stumble upon corpses in the gutters. In palaces they poke at each other with stilettos, and at feasts every now and then someone falls under the table, blue from poison. I'm used to it. So why should I worry about death threatening someone, moreover, threatening not me, but you?

No time to explain.

It's not worth dying for any treasure.

- She wants to become even stronger. She'll die.
- Well, say a prayer for her on the way out of town.

- That smell... lilacs...
... and gooseberry.

- The child does not need to treat sick ego!
- Are you going to give me advice about the kids after he find a child that is strapped to himself and threw!

- Why not kill them?
Because then they will be right about me.

- Come on, Geralt, be honest: how I sing?
Is like order the cake and filling.

When an elven blade kissed my throat, I'm not crap. I wish you the same happiness, my lords, that if you died in clean pants.