Quotes from “The Song of Achilles” by Madeline Miller

I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.
Some had a whole epic, others just a verse.
My hand closed over his. “You must not kill Hector,” I said.
He looked up, his beautiful face framed by the gold of his hair. “My mother told you the rest of the prophecy.”
“She did.”
“And you think that no one but me can kill Hector.”
“Yes,” I said.
“And you think to steal time from the Fates?”
“Ah.” A sly smile spread across his face; he had always loved defiance. “Well, why should I kill him? He’s done nothing to me.”
“If you have to go, you know I will go with you.”
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“And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Do you think?”
“Perhaps,” Achilles admitted.
andreahas quotedlast year
ACHILLES, it reads. And beside it, PATROCLUS.
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We cannot bury one without the other.
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Achilles smiles as his face strikes the earth.
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“Philtatos,” Achilles says, sharply. Most beloved.
we have wrestled, my own skin smells like it.
He puts a hand down, to lean against. The muscles in his arms 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 looked 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.
He watches me. It seems that he is waiting.
I shift, an infinitesimal movement, towards him. It is like the leap from a waterfall. I do not know, until then, what I am going to do. I lean forward and our lips land clumsily on each other. They are
He is half of my soul, as the poets say. He will be dead soon, and his honor is all that will remain.
He pressed against me, crushing my lips to wine.
“I feel like I could eat the world raw.”
They lie in the dark and hate each other.
THE DARKNESS, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.
how is there glory in taking a life? We die so easily. Would you make him another Pyrrhus? Let the stories of him be something more.
mouth tightens. “Have you no more memories?”
I am made of memories.
Bury us, and mark our names above. Let us be free.
He is half of my soul, as the poets say. He will be dead soon, and his honor is all that will remain. It is his child, his dearest self. Should I reproach him for it? I have saved Briseis. I cannot save them all.
I know, now, how I would answer Chiron. I would say: there is no answer. Whichever you choose, you are wrong
us. Now that we are twenty-seven, they still feel too hard
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