The Name of the Wind

I read a book that Amanda let me borrow called The Name of the Wind. It is intriguing, and as far as science fiction/fantasy as the library here in Edmonton seems to classify it, is not so far fetched that I don't want to believe it. I can actually pretend this world exists.
Now I'm reading the second book of the trilogy called The Wise Man's Fear.
Here is an exerpt:

He stalked over to the bundle of seeds, picked it up, and waved it vigorously until the air was full of gently floating puffs of milkweed seed.
Then Elodin started to chase the seeds wildly around the room, trying to snatch them out of the air with his hands. He clambered over chairs, ran across the lecturer's dais, and jumped onto the table at the front ofthe room.
All the while he grabbed at the seeds. At first he did it one-handed, like you'd catch a ball. But he met no success, and so he started clapping at them, the way you'd swat a fly. When this didn't work either, he tried to catch them with both hands, the way a child might cup a firefly out of the air.
But he couldn't get a hold of one. The more he chased, the more frantic he became, the faster he ran, the wilder he grabbed. This went on for a full minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten.
It might have gone on for an entire class period, but eventually he tripped over a chair a tumbled painfully to the stone floor, tearing open the leg of his pants and bloodying his knee.
Clutching at his leg, he sat on the ground and let loose with a string of angry cursing the like of which I had never heard in my entire life. He shouted and snarled and spat. He moved through at least eight languages, and even when I couldn't understand the words he used, the sound of it made my gut clench and the hair on my arms stand up. He said things that made me sweat. He said things that made me sick. He said things I didn't know it was possible to say.
I expect this might have continued, but while drawing an angry breath, he sucked on of the floating milkweed seeds into his mouth and began to cough and choke violently.
Eventually he spat out the seed, caught his breath, got to his feet, and limped out of the lecture hall without saying another word.
This was not a particularly odd day's class under Master Elodin.

 Bahaha. Thank you Patrick Rothfuss. This made me giggle.