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Hate was a funny thing. It gnawed at her insides like poison. It made every muscle in her body tense, made her veins boil so hot she thought her head might split in half, and yet it fueled everything she did. Hate was its own kind of fire
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“Soon enough, the fine grains of his sanity would begin to course between his fingers.”
― The Priory of the Orange Tree
― The Priory of the Orange Tree
“Few men truly like seeing beauty burn.”
― Red Rising
― Red Rising
“Few men truly like seeing beauty burn. But burn it does.”
― Morning Star
― Morning Star
“Like seeds from a dandelion clock.”
― The Priory of the Orange Tree
― The Priory of the Orange Tree
linds’s 2025 Year in Books
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