Quotes About Devotion

He no longer belongs to me alone.

The never-ending ache of love and sorrow. Perhaps in some other life I could have refused, could have torn my hair and screamed, and made him face his choice alone. But not in this one . . . I would follow him, even into death

Yet at least what you loved, you fought for.

I loved this about him. No matter how many times I asked, he answered me as if it were the first time.

He is half my soul as the poets say. I 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.

Qué era lo que más quería? - Su amante, Patroclo. No me apreciaba mucho, pero también es cierto que los buenos guerreros nunca me aprecian. Aquiles enloqueció tras su muerte; o estuvo a punto de enloquecer.

I would not care," I said. The words scrabbled from my mouth. "Whatever you became. It would not matter to me. We would be together." "I know," he said quietly, but did not look at me.

will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.

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.

Si tienes que ir, sabes que iré contigo.

i will never leave him. it will always be this, for as long as he will let me.

If you have to go, I will go with you.

Non avevo altare, ma non ne avevo bisogno: ogni luogo in cui mi trovavo era il mio tempio.

His eyes were unwavering, green flecked with gold. A surety rose in me, lodged in my throat. I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me. If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth.

Briseis," I said. "If I ever wished to take a wife, it would be you." "But you do not wish to take a wife." "No," I said, as gently as I could.

He's half of my soul, as the poets say.

He holds me all night long, pressing my cold hands to his mouth.

Perhaps in some other life I could have refused, could have torn my hair and screamed, and made him face his choice alone. But not in this one. He would sail to Troy and I would follow, even into death.

Patroclus," he said. He was always better with words than I.

I waited. I still hoped Glaucos would think of me. I would have married him in a moment. But I found myself hoping for another thing too, which I would not have believed the day before: that he would weep all the salt in his veins for Scylla's return, holding fast to her as his one, true love.

If you have to go, I will go with you. My fears forgotten in the golden harbor of his arms.

What was his best part?" "His lover, Patroclus. He didn't like me much, but then the good ones never do. Achilles went mad when he died; nearly mad, anyway.

He was half my soul, as the poets say

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.