Lisa

“The last thing I think is: Achilles.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“I could not make him a god," she says. Her jagged voice, rich with grief.
/But you made him./”
― 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