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There are no seacaves deeper than her eyes;
Day treads the trees and she the cavernous night.
...
Pity Electra loveless, she whose grief
Drowns and is drowned, who utters to the stars
Her syllables, and to the gods her love;
Pity the poor unpitied who are strange with tears. 💔

Lain with parched things; loved dogs and women;
I have desired the circle of the sun.
Tested by fire, double thumb to nose,
I’ve mocked the moving of the universe.
Where, what? There was commotion in the skies,
But no god rose. I have seen bad and worse,
Gibed the coitus of the stars. No god
Comes from my evil or my good. Mad, mad,
Feeling the pinpricks of the blood,I’ve said
The novel things. But it has been no good

Where, what’s my God? I have been mad, am mad,
Have searched for shells and signs on the sea shore,
Stuck straw and seven stars upon my hair,
And leant on stiles and on the golden bar,
I have ridden on gutter dung and cloud.
Under a hideous sea where coral men
Feed in the armpits of drowned girls. I’ve swum
And sunk; waved flags to every fife and drum;
Said all the usual things over and again;
->

Even among his own kin he is lost,
Is love a shadow on the wall,
Among all living men he is a sad ghost.
He is not man’s nor woman’s man,
Leper among a clean people
Walks with the hills for company,
And has the mad trees’ talk by heart.

I have longed to move away but am afraid;
Some life, yet unspent, might explode
Out of the old lie burning on the ground,
And, crackling into the air, leave me half-blind.
Neither by night’s ancient fear,
The parting of hat from hair,
Pursed lips at the receiver,
Shall I fall to death’s feather.
By these I would not care to die,
Half convention and half lie.

Out of the sighs a little comes,
But not of grief, for I have knocked down that
Before the agony; the spirit grows,
Forgets, and cries;
A little comes, is tasted and found good;
All could not disappoint;
There must, be praised, some certainty,
If not of loving well, then not,
And that is true after perpetual defeat

Never is nightmare,
Never flows out from the wound of sleep
Staining the broken brain
With knowledge that no use and nothing worth
Still’s vain to argue after death;
No use to run your head against the wall
To find a sweet blankness in the blood and shell,
This pus runs deep.

Now could I raise
Her dead, dark body to my own
And hear the joyous rustle of her bone
And in her eyes see deathly blaze;

Now could I wake
To passion after death, and taste
The rapture of her hating, tear the waste
Of body. Break, her dead, dark body, break

Your eyes on me were as eyes that rove
Over tedious riddles solved years ago;
And some words played between us to and fro—
On which lost the more by our love.
The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing
Alive enough to have strength to die;
And a grin of bitterness swept thereby
Like an ominous bird a-wing ..

osmijeh na tvojim usnama bijaše najmrtvija stvar
živ dovoljno da smogne snage za umrijeti; 💙

And the sick grief that you were far away
Grew pleasant thankfulness that you were near?
Who might have been, set on some outstep sphere,
Less than a Want to me, as day by day
I lived unware, uncaring all that lay
Locked in that universe taciturn and drear.

Then would I bear, and clench myself, and die,
Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I
Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.

But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain,
And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?
—Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,
And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan .

"I hate you" I whispered
He kissed my forehead, feather soft "I know"
"Please don't kill me... I cant do it. I'm not strong enough"
He cupped my chin and tugged my face gently up. "You are the strongest person I've ever known"
"Im not"
He pressed his forehead to mine "Sometimes I think the force of your love could mend the earth"
"I dont need it to mend the earth. I just need it to mend this."

"Do my rigid morals seem absurd to you?"
"Mine are just as rigid,though different."
"In what way?
"If a hero is someone who will give up love to save the world then a villain is someone who willgive up the world to save love"
"So you admit it then,being a villain"
He shrugged "There is no line I wouldnt cross to keep a loved one safe.
I laughed "You dont have any by design"
A heavy pause and then a quiet "I have you"

He loosed the Queen's hand finally, touched her lips with his fingers. Then he looked at Saro. "I thought I knew what sorrow is," he said. "Now I must leave you, and now I know."

💔

"This is only a dream.If I could stay,if somehow I could unweave myself from his spell and stay, I would burn these woods again with memory.These Hunter's hands are my hands, these hounds and burning horns are mine. I died that night. There is nothing left of Ilyos but memory." Her face grew still then, tearless.
"Stay," the Queen said softly. "If you are nothing but memory, then stay. Here among my memories."

Ihave been surrounded all my life by ghosts.This war has never ended- Atrix kept it alive, you and everyone in this house.Can you blame me for taking what peace I can in the only place where I recognize the word?
"You might as well be pining after a ghost," Burne snapped "Youre in love with your own memories.Nothing else.She'll give you nothing but pain.And there will be little left of you than what haunts these wals

"I am under some spell..No. I'm not under some spell. I wish I were. I would give anything to be spellbound."
Burne set his own cup down slowly. If he said one word, Talis knew, it would be the wrong word, and any word would be too many.He waited, unable to leave for there was no place to go, unable to stay and keep looking at Burne's tired, human face.
"We need you too" Burne said,his heart battered but still alive

"I spoke to you in your dreams. I rode through them. I sent you portents, images. But I never saw your face. I thought you would be different."
"You thought," he suggested painfully, "I would resemble what I had made."
"I thought," she said, "you would be less human. Arrogant, thoughtless, dangerous with power. Or perhaps I should say more human."
"I have been all of those things."

💔

"I watched your father die on Hunter's Field.I will not watch you die here, not for the sake of any woodland queen. I promised your brother I would bring you back to him, wherever you were. And then I promised him he could kill me. You will leave this place before the sun sets. This is not your battle, and you are not powerful enough to argue the point with me.
"You cant bring my father back by becoming another ghost

"I saw her face," Atrix said, "in my dreams." He stopped pacing, dropped into a chair, silent a moment, dreaming of her again. "She is like the wood. Like golden light falling through the golden branches of the oak. The fierce, hot green stillness of midsummer, or the colors blowing everywhere in autumn when the winds are clear and wild as water."
"She is."
"In my dream she is."

"I could never cry," she whispered. "I envy you."
He felt his throat burn again, this time with wonder, with pity. "Why? What have you lost?"
"Love," she said simply. "Sorrow."
He was mute, staring at her. The tear hung like a cut jewel below her eye. He lifted his hand, touched it, and it fell, glittering, to the grass. "No one cries for sorrow."
"I know."

💔

If you're thinking she is what I think you're thinking, and she took him lightly and carelessly as they take humans, then we might be old men before she tires of him."
"Fine," Burne said "As long as she sets him loose before I die. What are you saying? That I shouldn't bother looking for him?"
"No, but-"
"I warned him. I tried to. You don't offer your heart to what shapes itself out of water or light or white birch."

And then.. then she let me see her face. She was very..she was more beautiful than-"
The King grunted. "They always are," he said unexpectedly. "The women you meet in a wood, or a meadow, or beside water, whose names you never know. Far more beautiful than those you know too well."
Talis held the lens to his eye. "It wasn't like that."
"It never is."

burne is such an older brother, gotta love him 💖

He could not find the place where she had appeared to him; every sunlit glint of water, every outstretched oak bough seemed to promise her. He rode slowly, aimlessly, wandering through light and shadow, seeing one clear world and one blurred, and her in neither of them. He did not know if he rode deep into the wood, or circled near its boundary; he did not care.

"I was afraid."
"Of dying?"
"That out of fear they would do nothing. What should I have done?"
"I don't know," Hedrix said uneasily. "I only know that power unused is power uncontrolled. You turned away from it, but it did not vanish; you simply do not know, anymore, what you are doing with it. Or what it is doing to you."

they were lovers once upon a time, im sure of it

There seemed no words for what I had done. Words were too small, they did not mean… They would crack like glass if I tried to fill them with this. All I could see then was what I had made. I brought the Hunter here with me. I tried to work; I saw him in every spell I wrote. I saw him behind every door I opened, between me and every mage and student I spoke to. You spoke to a mage who no longer exited...

"I woke up picking pieces of Genia's mirror out of my beard"
"I was trying to extinguish a candle."
Burne stared at him."You broke mirrors all over the house trying to blow out a candle?What did they spend two years teaching you in that place?"
"I think," Talis said perplexed"it must be the spellbook.
"Then find another bookOr go out in the woods to practice.You're supposed to learn to defend our castle not demolish

The Healer climbed beyond the goats, trying to outclimb his dreams, the odd shadow over his thoughts, as if a black moon had risen out of nowhere and cast its black light across his heart.

He moved noiselessly through light and shadow, through the tangle of oak and birch, white and gold and tender green, and patches of impenetrable shadow. In the way of dreams, he knew and did not know that he had crossed some boundary between worlds. He knew and did not know that the dead leaves lying beneath the oak might also have been flakes of gold, that in the spider webs strung across his path each drop of dew r

She dodged a stray dog and the elbow of the head cook as he flung a wooden spoon at one of the undercooks stirring a sauce. "Lumpy!" he growled. "Unthinkable! Impossible." He was a lean, fiery, pepper-haired man who looked as if he would be happier riding a horse across dangerous lands to deliver a fateful message, than inventing fifty different ways to cook venison.

gordon ramsey fantasy edition 👍