Brandon Sanderson

The suit will be ruined by your blood, Breeze, he told himself. The time for silliness is over. This is serious. Far too serious. How did you even end up here?

His body changed, weak scholar’s arms transforming into massive, bulky limbs. His chest widened, bulging, and his muscles grew taut with power. Days spent fragile and frail focused on this single moment. He shoved his way through the ranks of soldiers, pulling his robe over his head as it grew too restrictive, leaving himself wearing only a vestigial loincloth.

MARSH STRUGGLED TO KILL HIMSELF.

Anyone can claim loyalty, Vin thought. If someone has a "Contract" to ensure their honor, then all the better. That makes the surprise more poignant when they do turn on you.

You've used your clothing to change how people react to you, to let them know who you are and what you represent—which is essentially what a uniform does.

Oh, Kelsier, she thought, picking up another page. We could use you now. Kelsier had been a man beyond convention . . . a man who had somehow been able to defy reality. He'd thought that by giving his life to overthrow the Lord Ruler, he would secure freedom for the skaa. But, what if his sacrifice had opened the way for a greater danger, something so destructive that the Lord Ruler's oppression was a preferable alternative?

She had been quite attractive a decade before, but now she was creeping up into her late twenties.

And men hate what they fear

I write these words in steel, for anything not set in metal cannot be trusted.

She wasn’t Kelsier, however. She had yet to decide if that was a bad or a good thing.