Alea M

“What's your name?" he asked above the roar of the music.

She leaned close. "My name is Wind," she whispered. "And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song."

He chuckled a low, delightful sound. She was drunk and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself.

"I have no name," she purred. "I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be."

He grasped her by her wrist, running a thumb along the sensitive sknin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two.”
― Sarah J. Maas, The Assassin and the Underworld

“On earth it's impossible to live and not to lie, for life and lying are synonymous”
― Dostoevskij

“The marks humans leave are too often scars.”
― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

“Per aspera ad astra.” “Through the thorns to the stars.” Sevro snickers. “You fancy little fart. Omnis vir lupus.” Everyone a wolf.”
― Pierce Brown, Golden Son