Wouldn’t the joys of life lose all colour, if life was eternal?
True siblings are bound together by far more essential things than blood, while more times than many blood isn't thicker than water.
Hurricanes couldn’t remove you from my mind. You’re my world and I’m incapable of not loving you.
I remembered Nahadoth's lips on my throat and fought to suppress a shudder, only half succeeding. Death as a consequence of lying with a god wasn't something I had considered, but it did not surprise me. A mortal man's strength had its limits. He spent himself and slept. He could be a good lover, but even his best skills were only guesswork - for every caress that sent a woman's head into the clouds, he might try ten that brought her back to earth.
I make a show of smoothing down my hair – a lost cause at this point. “Ah, that. It’s getting to the stage where it deserved a name. The Knotted Nest? The Twisted Tresses?” “What about the Terrible Tangle?” I nod. “That has serious possibilities.” “The Matted Mess?” he suggests.
She had no time for sleep, with the weight of the world upon her shoulders. And she feared to dream. Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night.