More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
All men can love a forbidden thing, generally speaking, and in most cases knowledge is precisely that; lost knowledge even more so.
Many people incorrectly assume time to be a steady incline, a measured arc of growth and progress, but when history is written by the victors the narrative can often misrepresent that shape.
Beware the man who faces you unarmed. If in his eyes you are not the target, then you can be sure you are the weapon.
Really, there was nothing more dangerous than a woman who knew her own worth.
Amen
the problem with knowledge, Miss Rhodes, is its inexhaustible craving. The more of it you have, the less you feel you know,”
they were binary stars, trapped in each other’s gravitational field and easily diminished without the other’s opposing force.
Fall together, fall apart
he knew that the touch of her hand brushing his when she passed him on the stairs or in the hall was only the surface of an unimaginable depth.
She had nursed his affinity for her, making him crave her like an addict. One drop and he would go too far. He gave in easily, readily; perilously, like madness.
Poor thing, she thought, poor little academic, trying to study his books and keep his distance when really, he was fucking her on her hands and knees in the recesses of his tired mind.
The taste of him on her tongue, real and imagined, was burnt sugar, wild adoration, tender rage.
“You are unfairly talented. Upsettingly good,”
We all know that person
Much as he hated to admit it, Nico resented himself most when he made her feel small.
“Is it not a proven fact of history that power isn’t meant to exist in the hands of the very few?”
“We all have our own curses. Our own blessings.” Callum’s smile faltered. “We are the gods of our own universes, aren’t we? Destructive ones.”
“Very human of him, to long for a collective.”
Gods demanded blood in almost every culture.
Mortal lifetimes were short, inconsequential. Convictions were death sentences. Money couldn’t buy happiness, but nothing could buy happiness, so at least money could buy everything else. In terms of finding satisfaction, all a person was capable of controlling was himself.
He had a particular gift for making one sound mimic an entire musical performance about the interminable nature of suffering.
The day you are not a fire,” he said, “is the day the earth will fall still for me.”
“I know exactly what shape she takes up in the universe,” he pleaded in explanation. “If anyone can recognize her, it’s me.”
Ugh, beautiful
“It is the remarkable who suffer. The unremarkable are passed over, yes, but greatness is not without its pains.”
(Only people who exist in three dimensions ever believe history to be sacred.)
