Madeline Miller

The Song of Achilles

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  • andreahas quoted7 years ago
    “And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Do you think?”
    “Perhaps,” Achilles admitted.
  • b0479629685has quoted7 years ago
    I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.
  • caterinahas quoted7 years ago
    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?”
    “Yes.”
    “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.”
  • camillepineda188has quoted8 years ago
    Some had a whole epic, others just a verse.
  • andreahas quoted7 years ago
    Achilles smiles as his face strikes the earth.
  • andreahas quoted7 years ago
    “Philtatos,” Achilles says, sharply. Most beloved.
  • camillepineda188has quoted8 years ago
    He is half of my soul, as the poets say. He will be dead soon, and his honor is all that will remain.
  • andreahas quoted7 years ago
    We cannot bury one without the other.
  • acovo728has quoted6 years ago
    could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.
  • moose4343has quoted7 years ago
    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
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