Sara

“Bury me, my love, and take a lock of my hair with you. Carry me through the centuries. I think I'd like to share, just a little, in what immortality is like.”
― Cassandra Khaw, The Salt Grows Heavy

“I read somewhere,” says my plague doctor, “that there is power to your kind’s names, isn’t there? Or was it in your voices? I can’t remember. Not right now. But there was a reason your husband sliced out your tongue, was there not? He was afraid, one way or another, of the voice that beats in your lungs, your hurricane scream. You frightened him. How men fear things that can’t be quieted.”
― Cassandra Khaw, The Salt Grows Heavy

“He was afraid one way or another of the voice that beats in your lungs. Your hurricane scream. You frightened him, how men fear things that can't be quieted.”
― Cassandra Khaw, The Salt Grows Heavy

“But my kind do not die until we are killed or until we relent to be consumed. I have forever. I will make this right again.”
― Cassandra Khaw, The Salt Grows Heavy