The Name of the Wind is sublime. I think because it sounds so different to the usual grand, bombastic, bellicose fantasy kick off. It’s all silence. And a man working in a bar. And that last sentence. Oof.
It was night again. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts. The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves… The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.
Full text here: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/9410716-it-was-night-again-the-waystone-inn-lay-in-silence