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Richard Siken
“Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake
                                                                                and dress them in warm clothes again.
          How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running
until they forget that they are horses.
                    It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere,
          it’s more like a song on a policeman’s radio,
                              how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days
were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple
                                                                                                                        to slice into pieces.
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means
          we're inconsolable.
                                                            Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
                                                                                          Tell me we’ll never get used to it.”
Richard Siken, Crush

Rick Riordan
“This is Annabeth,” Jason said. “Uh, normally she doesn't judo-flip people.”
Rick Riordan, The Mark of Athena

Anne Carson
“Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.”
Anne Carson (Translator), Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

Rick Riordan
“It's okay,” he said. “We're together.” He didn't say you're okay, or we're alive. After all they'd been through over the last year, he knew that the most important thing was that they were together. She loved him for saying that.”
Rick Riordan, The Mark of Athena

Rick Riordan
“And,” Annabeth continued, “it reminds me how long we’ve known each other. We were twelve, Percy. Can you believe that?”
“No, he admitted. “So…you knew you liked me from that moment?”
She smirked. “I hated you at first. You annoyed me. Then I tolerated you for a few years. Then—”
“Okay, fine.”
She leaned in and kissed: him a good, proper kiss without anyone watching—no Romans anywhere, no screaming satyr chaperones.
She pulled away. “I missed you, Percy.”
Percy wanted to tell her the same thing, but it seemed too small a comment. While he had been on the Roman side, he’d kept himself alive almost solely by thinking of Annabeth. I missed you didn’t really cover that.”
Rick Riordan, The Mark of Athena

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