Apollo Blake > Quotes

“I hate the way we’re getting old,
Hate the weary in my soul
Let’s not regret the ways it didn’t go”
― Apollo Blake, Nocturnalisms

“Imagine being just strong enough to remember what life was like, feeling things, your heartbeat, the world around you. And imagine you couldn’t have it anymore, couldn’t even properly remember it, but there was just enough that some deep part of you knew what you were missing. Wouldn’t you do anything to get it back, if it was right there for the taking? Wouldn’t you be willing to kill for it?”
― Apollo Blake, Storm of Masks

“God, what would someone so afraid do with power so awful?”
― Apollo Blake, Shadows of Ourselves

“2 - Listen In

Eavesdropping,
Seriously?
Acting like you’re the main character,
You have nothing to go on,
Grow the fuck up.”
― Apollo Blake, Nocturnalisms

“He flexed his large yellow-orange wings and Quinn noticed these were not exactly like the demon’s—they were smaller across, but also slightly longer from end to end, lankier and more proportional to the man’s human body. They were much less scarred and ashy than the creature’s had been, and he moved them more delicately, deliberately folding them close to avoid knocking around Quinn’s remaining battered furniture. He was at least a more polite, more talkative guest than the last monster.”
― Apollo Blake, Digital Demon

“A ball of fire rolled through my stomach, catching on the wings of the butterflies darting around in there and setting them up in a blaze. I bristled as Carter’s grin brushed mine, lips just barely touching.

Any closer and we’d be kissing for real, plunging straight off this knife edge we balanced on.”
― Apollo Blake, Storm of Masks

“The problem with love is this: It dies. And when it does, you die with it.”
― Apollo Blake, Shadows of Ourselves

“14 - Maneater

In miniature you look easy enough,
A gentle enemy, how foolish I was,
I pressed in, pressed my luck,
Took a bite, had my fill,
I never knew you were poison ‘till
My lips wet with blood, my own swill,
I collapsed on your corpse,
You held me still,
Your vines drew me in, your leaves enclosed,
Oh how quickly the poison goes,
Oh how thickly the forest grows.”
― Apollo Blake, Nocturnalisms