Cortney

“We are sorry, child. We did not mean to love you so well.
This was a truth I hadn’t understood until now.
You see, nothing good can come from being loved by old gods. Their love of mortals turns them neglectful and petty. When they move on, they lay waste in their path—cicada wings and bear paw prints, sacs of spider silk, echoes and anemone, the limbs of lovers now rendered to stars.”
― Roshani Chokshi, The Last Tale of the Flower Bride

“But she saw something in me. Something that turned her kiss into a knife that cut me free from the dark.”
― Roshani Chokshi, The Last Tale of the Flower Bride

“At first it is strange. I am used to keeping him from her, to hoarding him for myself. But the memories well up like spring-water, 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 the summer sun. His face when he ran. His eyes, solemn as an owl at lessons. This and this and this.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Some individuals are like portals, the knowing of them makes the world a far vaster place. In Indigo’s presence my world widened. Brightened. There was something about her that made the eye linger. It wasn’t her beauty; it was the way she seemed superimposed on the room. A mirage that might vanish if I looked away.”
― Roshani Chokshi, The Last Tale of the Flower Bride