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I decided, enough pain. To the lips of their nocturnal happiness I would attach those of my revenge. I was not the woman who breaks into pieces under the blows of abandonment and absence, who goes mad, who dies. Only a few fragments had splintered off, for the rest I was well. I was whole, whole I would remain. I am the invulnerable animal who passes through fire and is not burned.

switched to audio to get through 🫠

been looking forward to reading this book and had high expectations but so far very dull

We're stacking emotion on emotion like a block tower nearing collapse.

ooh la la!

celebrating every 100 pages like a milestone - and oh, absolutely loving this book! 200/864

the second half of the book muuuuuuch better (didn’t see the heartbreak coming!)

unpopular opinion (I guess 😬): why do first 200 pages feel SO repetitive and make reading tedious??!!

The three of them.
Under the first one was written: ‘She Saw Evil’. Under the second: ‘She Heard Evil’. And under the third were these words: ‘She Did Evil’.

How easy it was to hate a loved one.

Peri held the Polaroid tight, and was surprised to feel the warmth it radiated, as if it were alive. How strange it was, when you came to think of it, that while moments withered, hearts stiffened, bodies aged, promises perished, and even the strongest convictions faded, a photograph, a two-dimensional representation of reality and a lie, remained unchanged, forever faithful.

already know this is a good one!!

all this ‘Rhysand’ thing - cringe

why does finishing a book before month ends feel like an achievement I absolutely need to unlock?!!

There is nothing like puking with somebody to make you into old friends.

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.

Grief (the biggest grief in the world) is like - What? What is it that happens to a person? I've always felt it is like a scream living inside me.

Remember: words, especially those written, are immortal.

There are four seasons that repeat in measured pattern year after year. We are born and grow through childhood in spring. We live those glorious, lively, interesting years of our twenties, thirties, forties in summer. We settle into ourselves in autumn, that cool but not yet cold time, rich and aromatic. And in winter we age (brutally) and die.

'Don't talk, Hink. Save your breath.’
'For what?'

AAAAAAAAAGH 😭😭😭

‘You are so beautiful, babe,' he says.
Babe. A word from another universe. It's physically
disorienting.

sobbing on a plane, a new skill unlocked