do   the   gods   love   their   creations?

most   of   what’s   bad   in   the   world   is   because   of   stupid   old   men.

if   mortals   can   turn   to   the   gods   when   they   are   powerless   …   then   who   do   the   gods   turn   to   when   they   have   nothing   left   to   give?

i   wonder   if   you   wish   for   a   different   daughter   instead   of   me.

her triumph over darkness will bring a summer that will never end … death itself will bend its knee, and all who die fighting in her cause shall be reborn.

is there anything so undoing as a daughter?

home is the first grave.

not even death can pull me away from you.

old men spoiled by cowardly kings become cowardly themselves.

a heart is a heavy burden.

most of what’s bad in the world is because of stupid old men.

god loves you, but not enough to save you.

rage—goddess, sing the rage of peleus’ son achilles — murderous, doomed.

old men spoiled by cowardly kings become cowardly themselves.

what is a lineage, if not a gold thread of pride and guilt?

we are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood.

love is a beautiful, indecent form of torturous dreaming.

oh, i shall have to stay here a while in glassy water, in a seaweed net, until this fact and i are reconciled: i wasn’t loved, it’s as simple as that.

cast your eyes to heaven, you get a knife in the back.