Sara

“I allow myself, for the gash of a moment, to remember what I once possessed: the abyssal ocean, the song in those depths like swimming down the black throat of a god; the searing colors moting my sisters' coils, sapphire and quartz crushed into constellations and prisms of incandescence spiraling through the dark, our tails in endless, restless motion; our mother's eyes colossal, phosphorescent; our father's ribs, still studded with our egg sacs, his heartbeat in our veins. I'd been happy there.”
― Cassandra Khaw, The Salt Grows Heavy

“He was afraid one way or another of the voice that beats in your lungs. Your hurricane scream. You frightened him, how men fear things that can't be quieted.”
― Cassandra Khaw, The Salt Grows Heavy

“I read somewhere,” says my plague doctor, “that there is power to your kind’s names, isn’t there? Or was it in your voices? I can’t remember. Not right now. But there was a reason your husband sliced out your tongue, was there not? He was afraid, one way or another, of the voice that beats in your lungs, your hurricane scream. You frightened him. How men fear things that can’t be quieted.”
― Cassandra Khaw, The Salt Grows Heavy

“Humans. You beat yourselves up for failure and you beat yourselves up almost as bad for success.”
― T. Kingfisher, Minor Mage