TheBurrowBooks

“Everything dies, buttercup,” he once said as we sat on the front porch, watching a storm roll in. Carver was toddling in his play pool, and Alice was gurgling on his knee. “That’s a fact. But you wanna know a secret?” And I had leaned in, so sure it was a cure for death, a way to bat it away— “Everything that dies never really goes. In little ways, it all stays.”
― Ashley Poston, The Dead Romantics

“my favorite human.”
― Martha Wells, All Systems Red

“She sits on a golden throne, surrounded by thorny roses and hummingbirds. Her rich, dark skin is offset against the sea-foam blue gown she wears and the bright green, bat-like wings that extend from her back. Her dark hair is piled high on the top of her head, pinned in place with gold-dipped flowers.”
― Elise Kova, A Dance with the Fae Prince

“You are my temple,” I murmur as I kneel beside her. “You are my priest. You are my prayer. You are my release.”
― Sabaa Tahir, A Torch Against the Night