TSOASOURCE

Achilles, it reads. And beside it, Patroclus.

…I do not think I can bear it…’ he said, at last. His eyes closed, as if against the horrors. I knew he spoke not of his death but of the nightmare Odysseus had spun, the loss of his brilliance, the withering of his grace. I had seen the joy he took in his own skill, the roaring vitality that was always just beneath the surface. Who was he if not miraculous, and radiant? Who was he if not destined for fame?

“Circe” and “The song of Achilles” by Madeline Miller book covers reimagined as Penguin Classics

 ― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

We were like gods at the dawning of the world, & our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

happy birthday to my dear kalli [ @augustsjanes​ ] 

[ happy birthday maira @poppyswars !!! ]

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

the song of achilles / “heroism” - for @surenchaghan​ 🤍 (first 100 celeb)

t h e  s o n g  o f  a c h i l l e s

Have his touches always burned like this? Have you always felt like he tried to brand forever into you?

“I was used to unhappiness, formless and opaque, stretching out to every horizon. But this had shores, depths, a purpose and a shape. There was hope in it, for it would end, and bring me my son.”

It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures, flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment’s carelessness. If I had ever believed it, I no longer did.

↳ he is half my soul, as the poets say.