The Song of Achilles

by Madeline Miller

‘She wants you to be a god,’ I told him. ‘I know.’ His face twisted with embarrassment, and in spite of itself my heart lightened. It was such a boyish response. And so human. Parents, everywhere.

We were only twelve, too young to brood.

Our mouths opened under each other, and the warmth of his sweetened throat poured into mine. I could not think, could not do anything but drink him in, each breath as it came, the soft movements of his lips. It was a miracle.

I think: this is what I will miss. I think: I will kill myself rather than miss it. I think: how long do we have?

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.