Jodi B

“Gaunt was woven into everything he read, saw, wrote, did, dreamt. Every poem had been written about him, every song composed for him, and Ellwood could not scrape his mind clear of him no matter how he tried.”
― Alice Winn, In Memoriam

“It was the Hell you’d feared in childhood, come to devour the children. It was treading over the corpses of your friends so that you might be killed yourself. It was the congealed evil of a century.”
― Alice Winn, In Memoriam

“Gaunt let his head tilt so that it touched Ellwood's on his shoulder. Elwood fell asleep, and Gaunt pretended to do the same, but he couldn't think beyond the parts of them that were touching. If Ellwood were a girl, he might have held his hand, kissed his temple. He might have bought a ring and tied their lives together. But Ellwood was Ellwood, and Gaunt had to be satisfied with the weight of his head on his shoulder.”
― Alice Winn, In Memoriam

“You’ll write more poems. They are not lost. You are the poetry.”
― Alice Winn, In Memoriam