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How simple it was to fall in love. How simple it was to fall in love with the right person! It was floating down a meandering stream in sunlight, not thrashing through a current.
“And maybe that’s it: You do things in the moment for the person you hope you might be two years from now. You don’t kill yourself when you are sad because one day you might not be sad, and you might want to go surfing with a man you really like?”
― The Wedding People
― The Wedding People
“No, Phoebe will never be a mother. Phoebe will never know what it’s like to create life inside of her. But there are other ways to create. Other ways to love. Other reasons to live.”
― The Wedding People
― The Wedding People
“She didn't understand how she could love herself. She didn't understand what people even meant when they said they loved themselves. She honestly didn't believe them. How could you love yourself? How could you love yourself when you know every single horrible thing you've ever thought?”
― The Wedding People
― The Wedding People
“She doesn’t see the point in staying alive only to do all the same things that made her want to die.”
― The Wedding People
― The Wedding People
“That was when they noticed that every musician on the stage was wearing mourning black. That was when they shut up. And when the conductor raised his arms, it was not a symphony that filled the cavernous space.
It was the Song of Eyllwe.
Then Song of Fenharrow. And Melisande. And Terrasen. Each nation that had people in those labour camps.
And finally, not for pomp or triumph, but to mourn what they had become, they played the Song of Adarlan.
When the final note finished, the conductor turned to the crowd, the musicians standing with him. As one, they looked to the boxes, to all those jewels bought with the blood of a continent. And without a word, without a bow or another gesture, they walked off the stage.
The next morning, by royal decree, the theatre was shut down.
No one saw those musicians or their conductor again.”
― Heir of Fire
It was the Song of Eyllwe.
Then Song of Fenharrow. And Melisande. And Terrasen. Each nation that had people in those labour camps.
And finally, not for pomp or triumph, but to mourn what they had become, they played the Song of Adarlan.
When the final note finished, the conductor turned to the crowd, the musicians standing with him. As one, they looked to the boxes, to all those jewels bought with the blood of a continent. And without a word, without a bow or another gesture, they walked off the stage.
The next morning, by royal decree, the theatre was shut down.
No one saw those musicians or their conductor again.”
― Heir of Fire
Historical Fictionistas
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Welcome to Historical Fictionistas! We want to experience all different kinds of HF with all different kinds of people. The more diverse, the better. ...more
Veronica’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Veronica’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
163 books
|
1 friend
213 books
|
15 friends
113 books
|
8 friends
200 books
|
5 friends
477 books
|
51 friends
1,049 books
|
222 friends
60 books
|
10 friends
27 books
|
6 friends
More friends…
Favorite Genres
Classics, Contemporary, Crime, Fiction, Historical fiction, Horror, Mystery, Poetry, Romance, Suspense, Thriller, Travel, and Young-adult
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