Steven Erikson's Malazan Book of the Fallen: Midnight Tides

"Fallen. Who tracks our footsteps, I wonder? We who are the forgotten, the discounted, and the ignored. When the path is failure, it is never willingly taken. The fallen. Why does my heart weep for them? Not them but us, for most assuredly I am counted among them. Slaves, serfs, nameless peasants and labourers, the blurred faces in the crowd. Just a smear on memory, a scuffing of feet down the side passages of history.
"Can one stop, can one turn and force one's eyes to pierce the gloom? And see the fallen? Can one ever see the fallen? And if so, what emotion is born in that moment?"
[There were tears on his cheeks, dripping down onto hsi chafed hands. He knew the answer to that question, knife-sharp and driven deep, and the answer was... recognition.]
~Udinaas, pg. 183

"Destiny is a lie. Destiny is a justification for atrocity. It is the means by which murderes armor themselves against reprimand. It is a word intended to stand in place of ethics, denying all moral context."
~Seren Pedac, pg. 489

"What the soul can house, flesh cannot fathom."
~Imarak (First Destriant), pg. 497

"The Kenryll'ah have ruled a long time, Trull Sengar. And have grown weak with complacency. They cannot see their impending demise. It is always the way of things, such blindness. No matter how long and perfect the succession of fallen empires and civilizations so clearly writ into the past, the belief remains that one's own shall live forever, and is not subject to the indomitable rules of dissolution that bind all nature. I am a caster of nets. Tyrants and emperors rise and fall. Civilizations burgeon then die, but there are always casters of nets. And tillers of soil, and herders in pastures. We are where civilization begins, and when it ends, we are there to begin it again."
~Lilac, pg. 509

"Madmen built houses of solid stone. Then circled looking for a way inside. Inside, where cosy perfection waited. People and schemes and outright lies barred his every effort, and that was the heart of the conspiracy. From outside, after all, the house looked real. Therefore it was real. Just a little more clawing at the stone door, a little more battering, one more pounding collision will burst that barrier. And on and on and round and round. The worn ruts of madness."
~Udinaas, pg. 576