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"I’m about halfway through and I’m actually really enjoying the book. I think the magic is interesting, the idea of the spirits of the ancestors is cool, etc, but there’s little explanation for much of stuff besides that time in the maproom on the aircraft. Also I keep expecting Ophelia to finally stand up and do something, but she just tolerates everything. Seems sorta like a pushover?" — Feb 01, 2021 10:47AM
"I’m about halfway through and I’m actually really enjoying the book. I think the magic is interesting, the idea of the spirits of the ancestors is cool, etc, but there’s little explanation for much of stuff besides that time in the maproom on the aircraft. Also I keep expecting Ophelia to finally stand up and do something, but she just tolerates everything. Seems sorta like a pushover?" — Feb 01, 2021 10:47AM
“I always deserve the best treatment because I never put up with any other.”
― Emma
― Emma
“There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they will do for themselves.”
― Emma
― Emma
“Achilles was looking at me. “Your hair never quite lies flat, here.” He touched my head, just behind my ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how I like it.”
My scalp prickled where his fingers had been. “You haven’t,” I said.
“I should have.” His hand drifted down to the vee at the base of my throat, drew softly across the pulse. “What about this? Have I told you what I think of this, just here?”
“No,” I said.
“This surely then.” His hand moved across the muscles of my chest; my skin warmed beneath it. “Have I told you of this?”
“That you have told me.” My breath caught a little as I spoke.
“And what of this?” His hand lingered over my hips, drew down the line of my thigh. “Have I spoken of it?”
“You have.”
“And this? Surely I would not have forgotten this.” His cat’s smile. “Tell me I did not.”
“You did not.”
“There is this too.” His hand was ceaseless now. “I know I have told you of this.”
I closed my eyes. “Tell me again,” I said.”
― The Song of Achilles
My scalp prickled where his fingers had been. “You haven’t,” I said.
“I should have.” His hand drifted down to the vee at the base of my throat, drew softly across the pulse. “What about this? Have I told you what I think of this, just here?”
“No,” I said.
“This surely then.” His hand moved across the muscles of my chest; my skin warmed beneath it. “Have I told you of this?”
“That you have told me.” My breath caught a little as I spoke.
“And what of this?” His hand lingered over my hips, drew down the line of my thigh. “Have I spoken of it?”
“You have.”
“And this? Surely I would not have forgotten this.” His cat’s smile. “Tell me I did not.”
“You did not.”
“There is this too.” His hand was ceaseless now. “I know I have told you of this.”
I closed my eyes. “Tell me again,” I said.”
― The Song of Achilles
“She was one of those, who, having, once begun, would be always in love.”
― Emma
― Emma
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