Grace Curley Famous Quotes
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The relief Kieran felt was staggering. The sick-satisfaction of justice burned through him like an oil spill, waiting for him to drop a match, to let it all go up in flames as he laughed through the rain of hellfire.
But he didn't. He pocketed the metaphysical match. He vacuumed the torrential oil spill. He had just turned his wasteland into a rain forest; he would not let his resentment burn down the trees he had grown out of the garden of his own mind. Kieran himself had come too far to let the angry hand of vengeance burn away his fertile terrains, ruin his harvests of the pure flora kingdom and slaughter his animals to ribbons in sacrifice to greater demons whose jaws never shut. Homeostasis was a hard-earned tendency. Bonfires were clumsy and unwarranted; if he let it consume him and everything he'd built, all he had cultivated would be for nothing.
He did not want his flowers to die.
He stayed under the fluorescent street light until the sounds of traffic and nightlife faded into silence, and only then did he look up into the night sky, the way he usually did when he was looking for answers.
He looked at all the people in that room, their tears and their smiles merging together as one, and at the care they all had for him, as if he was worth something great.
Love is weakness, Icarus, the man had said, grim, 'It is Man's deadliest weapon, greater than the sword and mightier than the axe - because it can destroy you with a single breath.
Her smile cut sharper than a knife's edge.
Love is not weakness, father: it is strength. Love is what taught my skin to feel and my eyes to see. Love is not a weapon: it is light.
Sun-brushed hands trailed circles on his wings, opening new ways to touch the sky. The dance is the dalliance of the whispers, unsaid desires brighter than eternal suns. His teeth of flint and steel, the sun boy's lips like ichor.
Imperfect. Beautiful. The most extraordinary thought of all.
I'm fine," is the reply he gives. I think I am surviving, in all the wrong ways, is the reply he thinks.
The gods may have spoken, but Nature only bends to a goddess.
Some would say that the winged boy loved the sun, loved him with his very own soul and every fibre in his body. His father had warned him: Don't fly too close to the sun, boy, you know better. But who was he to listen?
