Circe

by Madeline Miller

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

“You are wise,” he said. “If it is so,” I said, “it is only because I have been fool enough for a hundred lifetimes.”

“Yet at least what you loved, you fought for.”

“We are not our blood,” he answered. “A witch once told me that.”