Status Updates From Daughter of Crows (The Acad...

🤷🏻‍♀️💯😂



‘You told him to fuck off !’
‘I know what I did.’
‘But he’s the ferryman! He’s Death with his scythe! He’s the winged ones who take the warriors straight from the battlefield! He’s—’
‘He’s probably used to it. Dying’s enough to give most people an attitude.’

Memory is time. The mind remembers but so do rocks. Iron remembers. Worlds remember.

The Cruelties, it was said, could forget years as easily as anything else, but that if they shrugged off a year then every memory of those months went with it.

Wtf?!? I thought we were done with the insane twists! 🫢 This man...



‘That’s why he calls me Bek,’ she said to Eldest at the door. ‘I’m at his beck and call.’

Yeah nobody is falling for this one


‘Whoever took you must have snatched you from the street.’

She had crawled in this place before she could walk. She had gathered language to her within these walls. Tasted life. She broke then. Eldest who had been so strong, so relentless, implacable in her desire. She fractured in the softness of her mother’s arms, crying so hard she could scarcely breathe.

I like that the story is moving between past and present and we understand who is who by paralleling their present self/actions to the past

All of them, through some unnamed instinct bedded in their shared humanity, recognized the man as something alien, something unclean and dangerous. Even acolytes who might in two or three years be fully fledged Kindnesses, drew back as if fearing that *** might sink his teeth into their flesh.

Ngl I haven’t got a clue what is going on in this book rn

This is giving me so much anxiety 🫣

She saw nothing save her own tight-pressed limbs, and despaired, but somehow, she wormed her way up by fractions. When her fingertips found the chimney pot’s edge she advanced a swift hand’s length before running out of room to bend her elbows. She caught the breeze in her palms now, comically and tragically trapped but close enough to freedom to touch it.

I am haunted by the ghost of myself. By the ghosts of myself. By the little girl, the young woman, the mother, wife, by the widow fresh in her grief. Even yesterday watches with a stranger’s caution as it stands at my shoulder.

‘Memory . . .’ When she hid from Night-Father she erased herself, not from her own mind but from his while she clung to the memory that she existed. The poison’s gift, if you survived it, wasn’t forgetting but remembering.

Strength, children, is often misunderstood because it is found in so many kinds. Every strong thing, if you turn it this way and that, will look like weakness from the right angle. And some things that are weak will show their strength in surprising circumstances.

Completing her revolution, she took the direction she least wanted to go in, letting her fear guide her. If something terrible was lurking out there , better to face it head on than to let it stalk her.

To be wholly without fear was to lack imagination, and imagination – though a two-edged sword – was important for survival.

in the Library trilogy I underlined a lot of philosophical passages (they are important to me and the way to my heart as a reader). Looks like I'll underline more in this new book. My fav so far is the one about human lives being like the waves

Night came, too soon as it always did, and Father became the thing that hunted them.

He forced them to dig so deep that they erased not only their presence but their present, deleting who they were so that they could be further moulded to suit his purpose.