Jon Moss

“He puts a hand down, to lean against. The muscles in his arm curve softly, appearing and disappearing as he moves. His eyes are deep green on mine.

My pulse jumps, for no reason I can name. He has look at me a thousand thousand times, but there is something different in this gaze, an intensity I do not know. My mouth is dry, and I can hear the sound of my throat as I swallow.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Soon our conversations spilled out of the night's confinement. I surprised myself with how much there was to say, about everything, the beach and dinner and one boy or another.

I stopped watching for ridicule, the scorpion's tail hidden in his words. He said what he meant; he was puzzled if you did not. Some people might have mistaken this for simplicity. But is it not a sort of genius to cut always to the heart?”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“But then he was awake, his lips forming a half-sleepy greeting, and his hand was already reaching for mine. We lay there, like that, until the cave was bright with morning, and Chiron called.

We ate, then ran to the river to walk. I savored the miracle of being able to watch him openly, to enjoy the play of dappled light on his limbs, the curving of his back as he drove beneath the water. Later, we lay on the riverbank, learning the lines of each other's bodies anew. This, and this and this. We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Many of those promoting the expressway tear downs are the decision-makers now.”
― Mark H. Rose, Interstate: Express Highway Politics 1939-1989