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The Song of Achilles quotes about love
He looked different in sleep, beautiful but cold as moonlight. I found myself wishing he would wake so that I might watch the life return.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
For who can be ashamed to lose to such beauty?
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
He looked different in sleep, beautiful but cold as moonlight.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
That is — your friend?” “Philtatos, ” Achilles replied, sharply. Most beloved.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
Chiron had said once that nations were the most foolish of mortal inventions. “No man is worth more than another, wherever he is from.””But what if he is your friend?” Achilles had asked him, feet kicked up on the wall of the rose-quartz cave. “Or your brother? Should you treat him the same as a stranger?””You ask a question that philosophers argue over, ” Chiron had said. He is worth more to you, perhaps. But the stranger is someone else’s friend and brother. So which life is more important?”We had been silent. We were fourteen, and these things were too hard for us. Now that we are twenty-seven, they still feel too hard.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.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
I have done it, ” she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it reads. And beside it, P A T R O C L U S.”Go, ” she says. “He waits for you.”In 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.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
Name one hero who was happy.”I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason’s children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus’ back.”You can’t.” He was sitting up now, leaning forward.”I can’t.””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.We sat like that a moment, hands touching. He grinned.”I feel like I could eat the world raw.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
Patroclus, ‘ he said. He was always better with words than I.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
I found myself grinning until my cheeks hurt, my scalp prickling till I thought it might lift off my head. My tongue ran away from me, giddy with freedom. This, and this, and this, I said to him. I did not have to fear that I spoke too much. I did not have to worry that I was too slender, or too slow. This and this and this! I taught him how to skip stones, and he taught me how to carve wood. I could feel every nerve in my body, every brush of air against my skin.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
There is no law that gods must be fair, Achilles, ” Chiron said. “And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Do you think?”“Perhaps, ” Achilles admitted.I listened and did not speak. Achilles’ eyes were bright in the firelight, his face drawn sharply by the flickering shadows. I would know it in dark or disguise, I told myself. I would know it even in madness.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
This and this and this.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
In 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.
— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
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