Immortality: A Love Story (The Anatomy Duology #2)

by Dana Schwartz

From a raging fire that threatened to turn Hazel’s world to ash, the longing instead dampened to a small flame, a flickering candle visible only in the corner of her eyes.

I know the feeling, Hazel.

And it was undignified for an adult man to be blond, wasn’t it? Blond hair was for toddlers with rosy cheeks, not tall, broad-chested men with unidentifiable accents who made Hazel’s mouth go dry when they stepped closer to her.

Got a thing for blondes too? 😂

“I think what you English mistake for insults are merely honesty. We’re much more honest in Sweden. You disguise your insults in politeness. It’s much crueler.”

Maybe I should take a trip to Sweden…might find some honest blondes there :(

“Every woman marries into obsolescence,” Eliza said. “The things that make us celebrated as young women—being charming, and being coquettish and being clever? In a married woman and mother, all of that becomes desperate and embarrassing, like wearing too much rouge. Even our educations serve no purpose after we’re wed.

“Women always stand differently in a new dress. Taller. Shoulders back. You’re glowing. You look beautiful and you know it.”

Very observant, Simon. Quite the charmer, eh?

But charlatans and constables rarely went in for poetry, she reasoned to herself as she walked.

Only half true…I identify as a charlatan 😂

“Imagine what you might have to say if your talent weren’t wasted getting women to forgo their marital vows to get into bed with you.” “And who says that’s not a worthwhile pursuit, François?” Byron sneered the man’s name. “Poetry is born out of lust! Emotion! Sentiment! See, that’s your problem. You’re moralizing again. You always moralize.”

Oh, Byron…this might be the only thing in this whole book that came out of your mouth that didn’t make me 🤦‍♂️.

“Is it my fault that people want to tell their secrets to someone they don’t think is listening?”

Disagree here. I prefer sharing secrets to people who do listen, because their reactions and opinions are worth the telling of these secrets. Otherwise, why bother?

It was a rare gift, Hazel thought, to be surrounded by intelligent people who actually cared what you had to say.

Rare indeed.

If a woman had any hope at all of living in the rarefied world of art or poetry, it was to be beautiful enough for a man to choose her as a muse. A muse was celebrated, sure, praised and feted, but she existed entirely at the mercy of her artist, who was placing her high on a pedestal so small it didn’t allow her to move more than a step in either direction lest she fall.

“The world is measurable, much as you seem loath to admit it,” his companion with the French accent replied. “Even a poem is measurable. Meter, rhyme, pacing. Do you diminish your own art by pretending as though it’s assembled at random? Mere feeling devoid of skill?”

Definitely agree with this.

“But beauty is not measurable. The sublime is not measurable. I’m sorry, Voltaire, that you can’t come up with a pithy line to explain what happens to the soul when it beholds a mountain. Or, yes, a beautiful woman.”

But also can’t really argue with this.

“The only thing that’s permanent is death,” Voltaire said. “Life changes constantly.”

It was strange, Hazel thought to herself, how quickly the extraordinary became commonplace. How depressing it was that what had once been thrilling now elicited nothing stronger than mere satisfaction.

Same can be said of feelings, I suppose.

It was painful, no matter what, Hazel knew, to have to see the one you love on someone else’s arm. To see them smiling at someone else, fetching someone else’s drinks, kissing their cheek.

Hope was a dangerous thing. Most of the pain in the world, Jack had learned, was because of hope.

Too true, Jack.

“He’s tall. Wealthy. Famous. And they say he’s brilliant, which probably matters to you. Tall is good, though. It means you’ll have tall children.”

Obsession with height 😂😂

“Men despise women who chase them. They want women who want them but pretend not to in order to give them the dignity of a hunt that seems worthwhile. There’s nothing impressive about catching a rabbit that runs straight to you.”

I hate this. I love rabbits. Much prefer them to run straight to me 😂

“Perhaps you might not love me as you love your sailor. But I believe that a marriage can be built on more than that. It can be mutual respect. The decision to share a life together. To support and care for one another. Conversation. Companionship.”

The perfect marriage 😍

“Is anyone actually happy?” Hazel asked. “People like you and me? Very intelligent people? Almost never. But who knows? Perhaps we will be the exceptions.”

Well, you know what Jack said about hope…careful there, Hazel.