love is for children, said the girl. death is for fools, said the shadow. darkness is my destiny, said the boy. allegiance is my undoing, said the eagle. suffering is our fate, said the beauty. and they were all horribly wrong.
booksreadin2021: the invisible life of addie larue by v.e. schwab
There are days when she mourns the prospect of another year, another decade, another century. There are nights when she cannot sleep, moments when she lies awake and dreams of dying.
But then she wakes, and sees the pink and orange dawn against the clouds, or hears the lament of a lone fiddle, the music and the melody, and remembers there is such beauty in the world.
And she does not want to miss it—any of it.
“thinking about history makes me wonder how i’ll fit into it one day, i guess. and you too. i kinda wish people still wrote like that. history, huh? bet we could make some.”
@booksociety’s Children of the Night Event: House of Salt and Sorrows
Flushed with starlight and moonlight drowned, All the dreamers are castle-bound. At midnight’s stroke, we will unwind, Revealing fantasies soft or unkind. Show me debauched nightmares or sunniest daydreams. Come not as you are but as you wish to be seen.
