Veronica Koong

“Nesta didn't stop the tears that flowed. “I didn't deserve you before the war or afterward and I certainly don't now. Why do you think I shoved you away? Why do you think I wouldn't speak to you? Denying myself of you, it was my punishment. Don't you understand that?" She could barely see him through her tears. "From the moment I met you, I wanted you more than reason. From the moment I saw you in my house, you were all I could think about. And it terrified me. No one had ever held such power over me. And I am still terrified that if I let myself have you... It will be taken away. And if you're dead..." She buried her face in her hands. "It doesn't matter," she whispered. "I do not deserve you, and I never, ever will.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Cassian's arm shook, and Nesta braced herself for the blow, showing him her forgiveness, her unending, unbreakable love for him-

But Cassian roared.

And then the knife twisted in his hand, angling not toward her, but toward his own heart.

Of his own free will.

Against the Crown's hold, against a gasping Briallyn, he chose to drive the knife into his own heart. Kill, she had said. But had not specified who.

And as the sun broke over the horizon, as Cassian's knife plunged for his chest, Nesta erupted with the force of the Cauldron.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Hemingway never said any of this.
It's all AI-generated bullshit.



The hardest lesson I’ve had to learn as an adult is the relentless need to keep going, no matter how shattered I feel inside."

This truth is both raw and universal. Life doesn’t pause when our hearts are heavy, our minds are fractured, or our spirits feel like they’re unraveling. It keeps moving—unrelenting, unapologetic—demanding that we move with it. There’s no time to stop, no pause for repair, no moment of stillness where we can gently piece ourselves back together. The world doesn’t wait, even when we need it to.

What makes this even harder is that no one really prepares us for it. As children, we grow up on a steady diet of stories filled with happy endings, tales of redemption and triumph where everything always falls into place. But adulthood strips away those comforting narratives. Instead, it reveals a harsh truth: survival isn’t glamorous or inspiring most of the time. It’s wearing a mask of strength when you’re falling apart inside. It’s showing up when all you want is to retreat. It’s choosing to move forward, step by painful step, when your heart begs for rest.

And yet, we endure. That’s the miracle of being human—we endure. Somewhere in the depths of our pain, we find reserves of strength we didn’t know we possessed. We learn to hold space for ourselves, to be the comfort we crave, to whisper words of hope when no one else does. Over time, we realize that resilience isn’t loud or grandiose; it’s a quiet defiance, a refusal to let life’s weight crush us entirely.

Yes, it’s messy. Yes, it’s exhausting. And yes, there are days when it feels almost impossible to take another step. But even then, we move forward. Each tiny step is proof of our resilience, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we’re still fighting, still refusing to give up. That fight—that courage—is the quiet miracle of survival.”
― Ernest Hemingway

“You could have ruled the world with your power,' he said carefully.

'I don't want to rule the world.' Her eyes were unguarded in a way he had never seen. Mate, she had called him.

'What do you want?' Cassian managed to ask, voice rasping.

She smiled, and damn if it wasn't the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. 'You.'

'You've had me from the moment you met me.'

She tucked a strand of hair behind an arched ear. 'I know.'

He brushed a kiss over her mouth. But Nesta said, 'I want a disgustingly ornate mating ceremony.

He laughed, pulling away. 'Really?'

'Why not?'

'Because I'll never hear the end of it from Azriel and Mor.' Or the Illyrians.

Nesta considered. Then pulled something out of her pocket. A small biscuit, swiped from a tray in the birthing room. 'Then here. Food. From me to you, my mate. That's the official ritual, isn't it? The sharing of food from one mate to the other?'

He choked. 'These are my two options? A frilly mating ceremony or a stale biscuit?'

Her face filled with such true light, it nearly stole the breath from him. 'Yes.'

So Cassian laughed again, and folded her fingers around the pathetic biscuit, leaning to whisper in her ear, 'We'll make a coronation of it, Nes.'

'I already have a crown,' she said. 'I just want you.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames