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"As a copyist, no matter how good I might be, I would always be buried under the weight of a five-hundred-year-old corpse…" — 6 hours, 41 min ago
"As a copyist, no matter how good I might be, I would always be buried under the weight of a five-hundred-year-old corpse…" — 6 hours, 41 min ago
“If Eli really was a hero, and Victor meant to stop him, did that make him a villain?
He took a long sip of his drink, tipped his head back against the couch, and decided he could live with that.”
― Vicious
He took a long sip of his drink, tipped his head back against the couch, and decided he could live with that.”
― Vicious
“What are you doing to me, you plague of a girl?” he whispered.
“If I’m a plague, then you should keep your distance, unless you plan on being destroyed.” The weapons still in her grasp, she shoved against his chest.
“No.” His hands dropped to her waist. “Destroy me.”
― The Wrath and the Dawn
“If I’m a plague, then you should keep your distance, unless you plan on being destroyed.” The weapons still in her grasp, she shoved against his chest.
“No.” His hands dropped to her waist. “Destroy me.”
― The Wrath and the Dawn
“You think giving you a hug would give away too much?" he says.
"You know," I say. "I really don't care."
I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.
It is the best moment of my life.”
― Divergent
"You know," I say. "I really don't care."
I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.
It is the best moment of my life.”
― Divergent
“I have done it," she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it reads. And beside it, P A T R O C L U S.
"Go," she says. "He waits for you."
In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.”
― The Song of Achilles
"Go," she says. "He waits for you."
In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.”
― The Song of Achilles
“When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.”
― The Song of Achilles
― The Song of Achilles
razan’s 2025 Year in Books
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