Circe

by Madeline Miller

That is one thing gods and mortals share. When we are young, we think ourselves the first to have each feeling in the world.

Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep.

Often those men in most need hate most to be grateful, and will strike at you just to feel whole again.

But perhaps no parent can truly see their child. When we look we see only the mirror of our own faults.

I thought once that gods are the opposite of death, but I see now they are more dead than anything, for they are unchanging, and can hold nothing in their hands.