Quotes from Madeline Miller

She turned before him slowly, showing the lushness of her figure as if she were roasting on a spit.

I could have cast an illusion over the island to keep them away, I had the power to do it.

My son must live. There is no must to the lift of a mortal, except death.

Je ne serais plus un oiseau en cage, trop borné pour s'envoler alors même que les portes sont ouvertes.

His flesh was hot as a brazier, and I pressed as close as he would let me, like a lizard to noonday rocks.

so I don't fucking kill myself of boredom

I know. They never let you be famous and happy." He lifted an eyebrow. "I'll tell you a secret." "Tell me." I loved it when he was like this. "I'm going to be the first." He took my palm and held it to his. "Swear it." "Why me?" "Because you're the reason. Swear it." "I swear it," I said, lost in the high color of his cheeks, the flame in his eyes. "I swear it," he echoed.

Once when I was young, I asked what mortals looked like. My father said, "You may say that they are shaped like us, but only as the worm is shaped like the whale.

I planted my hands on his chest and shoved, as hard as I could. Our land was one of grass and wheat. Tumbles should not hurt. I am making excuses. It was also a land of rocks. His head thudded dully against stone, and I saw the surprised pop of his eyes. The ground around him began to bleed.

But the ache for him is stronger than my anger. I want to speak of something not dead or divine. I want him to live.

The sound was pure and sweet as water, bright as lemons. It was like no music I had ever heard before. It had warmth as a fire does, a texture and weight like polished ivory. It

That night, slipping among us like a snake, quick and silent and flickering, the plague began.

He says, it will be all right. He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive.

I will tell them nothing. It is not for them to say what I will do. - Achilles

I knew he killed men every day; he came home wet with their blood, stains he scrubbed from his skin before dinner. But there were moments, like now, when that knowledge overwhelmed me.

midwife gave my mother a pillow to hold instead of me. My mother hugged it. She did not seem to notice a change had been made.

Pronuncié su nombre, creo, y eso me traspasó: me quedé hueco como un bambú cortado para soplar por él. Nuestra respiración era el único indicio del transcurso del tiempo.

This morning he had leapt onto my bed and pressed his nose against mine. "Good morning," he'd said. I remembered the heat of him against my skin.

But he could tell your father. He might be angry." I said it almost desperately. Soon my skin would grow too warm, and I would no longer be able to think. "So what if he is?" The first time he had said something like this, I had been shocked. That his father might be angry and Achilles would still do as he wished—it was something I did not understand, could barely imagine. It was like a drug to hear him say it. I never tired of it.

Tu m'as jeté en pâture aux corbeaux, mais il se trouve que je les préfère à toi.

Achilles weeps.

I'm made of memories

Il pensiero che suo padre potesse essere in collera e che tuttavia Achille continuasse a fare ciò che voleva, era una cosa incomprensibile per me, a stento immaginabile. Sentirglielo dire era come una droga. Non ne avevo mai abbastanza.

You have eked out ten more years of life, and I'm glad for you...You have made a fair run of blocking fate's path. But you cannot do it forever. The gods will not let you.