Jill

“I still wake with your name on my lips every morning.”
― Melina Marchetta, Froi of the Exiles

“It’s Tolstoy, by the way,” I say as I open the door.
He turns around. “What?”
Shut up, I tell myself. Shut up.
“The writer of Anna Karenina. Not Trotsky. Trotsky was a revolutionary who was stabbed with a
pickax in Mexico in 1940. But I can understand how the T thing could confuse you.”
― Melina Marchetta, Saving Francesca

“She made a sound of regret. ‘We come second, you and I, Luc-ien,’ she said. ‘Our allegiance is always to our kingdoms. Without that allegiance, our people would fall.’

She placed her head back against his chest and he felt her tears. ‘This is not our time.’

‘But that will never mean I love you less,’ he said.”
― Melina Marchetta, Quintana of Charyn

“And when Finnikin grabbed her to him and buried his face in her neck and then bent down and placed his mouth on hers, the others pretended that there was something very interesting happening in the meadow. The priest-king even pointed at the nothing they were pretending to see. But Froi didn’t. He just watched the way Finnikin’s hands rested on Evanjalin’s neck and he rubbed his thumb along her jaw and the way his tongue seemed to disappear inside her mouth as if he needed a part of her to breathe himself. And Froi wondered what Evanjalin was saying against Finnikin’s lips when they stopped because whatever the words were it made them start all over again and this time their hunger for each other was so frightening to watch that it made Froi look away.”
― Melina Marchetta, Finnikin of the Rock