Lisa

“I learned to sleep during the day so that I would not be tired when he returned; he always needed to talk then, to tell me down to the last detail about the faces and the wounds and the movements of men. And I wanted to be able to listen, to digest the bloody images, to paint them flat and unremarkable onto the vase of posterity. To release him from it and make him Achilles again.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“The word I use is hubris. Our word for arrogance that scrapes the stars, for violence and towering rage as ugly as the gods.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Priam's eyes find the other body, mine, lying on the bed. He hesitates a moment. 'That is --- your friend?'

'Philtatos,' Achilles says, sharply. Most beloved. 'Best of men, and slaughtered by your son.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“At first it is strange. I am used to keeping him from her, to hoarding him for myself. But the memories well up like springwater, faster than I can hold them back. They do not come as words, but like dreams, rising as scent from the rain-wet earth. This, I say. This and this. The way his hair looked in summer sun. His face when he ran. His eyes, solemn as an owl at lessons. This and this and this. So many moments of happiness, crowding forward.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles