Flo

“Britain was a wounded land, cloven in two, British and Roman, pagan and Christian, Stone and Grail, north and south, old and new. It was born in blood and grief and greed, divided eternally against itself, its different natures so mixed it could never extricate itself from itself. No miracle would erase that wound either. But Britain didn’t need a miracle, or a perfect knight, or even God. It would heal all on its own, slowly, the hard way. It would always be a scarred land, a complicated land, but complicated was not the same as broken. It would never be pure or perfect, but it might still one day be whole. How do you live in a waste land? Is there really any such thing? You look for the buried seeds and deep springs. You watch the animals, the lizards and the foxes, and see how they do it. You wait. And when the land was whole, perhaps the king would be whole too. Perhaps he always was.”
― Lev Grossman, The Bright Sword

“Those who had nothing substantial to brag about bragged the loudest.”
― R.F. Kuang, Katabasis

“Perhaps that is the most powerful form of repression. When you can't say anything or you don't feel any more. Not because there is some external power or rule preventing you. But because there is something in yourself that prevents you. That makes you both the prison and the prisoner.”
― Lai Wen, Tiananmen Square

“Bury my bones in the midnight soil, plant them shallow and water them deep, and in my place will grow a feral rose, soft red petals hiding sharp white teeth.”
― V.E. Schwab, Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil