Yes, he’d fought for me - but I’d fought harder for him.
The next novel in the A Court of Thorns and Roses, A Court of Mist and Fury continues with Feyre’s journey; her struggle with what she did for Tamlin Under the Mountain, dealing with Tamlin’s new protective nature, and her bargain with Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, while dark forces are amassing across the sea in Hybern.
This series keeps getting better and better, and I cannot wait for A Court of Wings and Ruin. There were so many quotable lines, and notable moments, as well as extension of the universe of ACOTAR. Admittedly, there were a couple of more risque scenes in ACOMAF than there were in ACOTAR, but they still managed to be really poetic for what was essentially a sex scene. The novel was nearly 700 pages, which was great because it meant so much content about Feyre, and introduced so many new characters.
Another book with badass female characters, and badass boys who would do anything for them. I love reading any Sarah J Maas novel because she writes female empowerment into her novels so well. Not only that but A Court of Mist and Fury displayed dealing with trauma, what I assumed was PTSD, and depression accurately, and dealing with and overcoming an unhealthy relationship. It also conveyed the themes of families of choice, sacrificing for love, and the importance of freedom and choice.
I Felt My Size is from a musical perspective not very notable but the lyrics are absolute genius not even any one part is super notable or quotable but just the way they interplay….. my favorite part is when he says “I recalled my fire and my lack of dawn” I don’t think I’ve ever heard any other song that retrospectives on itself like that plus that’s just one of several really well done turning points in the song. I guess the good way to put it is to say it’s full. It’s a full song with many many things in it that work well together.
I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone. Then this is my life and maybe, however unlikely, I’ll find my way back there. Or maybe, one day, I’ll settle for second best. And on that same day, hell will freeze over, the sun will burn out and the stars will fall from the sky.
Don’t take your health for granted, that flighty thing. Anyone who’s battled with their own knows how temperamental a body can be. That humans are imperfect machines, short-circuiting beneath our skin a tiny bit each day. Once the health goes, it leaves the door open so that many other things can go with it.
The taste of love in a homecooked meal, your eyes reuniting with something you’ve missed, the scent of a former fling, the sound of dancing piano keys. Use your senses, use all of them in ways that enthrall and embarrass you. Leave nothing untouched.
That buzz in your brain, that vibration you feel when your ambitions have been rewarded, when you finally succeed where it matters most? Hold on to it tightly; recall it when the champagne giggles of accomplishment fade into a content sigh, when the high of recognition wanes. Never take the electricity of achievement for granted; you will have been lucky to experience it in the first place.
Don’t take for granted your freedom. The freedom to create, the freedom of thought, the freedom to imagine because these are the freedoms no one can take away. Be thankful for the people who protect the freedoms that can be retracted, the ones we take advantage of most, the ones that didn’t exist 20, 50, 100 years ago. Realize you’re entitled to speak, to vote, to assemble because someone long before you put in the grunt work; realize that others might never see a day when they can express themselves in public. Understand that freedom is fickle, that we could lose it to apathy at any moment.
People should not be taken for granted — not the ones who raised you, not the ones who ground you, not the ones who love you. Not the stranger who chased you for a half-block to tell you you’ve dropped something, not the one who holds the door for you, not the one who asks you if you’re feeling okay or the one who asks you to dance. Their actions are not inconsequential; they are what it means to be human, a state so common that it’s rather easy to forget how extraordinary it can be. Don’t. Remember it always, remember how bland and unsatisfactory and meaningless life would be without humanity.
The time someone stood in front of you and nakedly, candidly told you how they felt about you; the time someone let you cry for minutes, hours, because you couldn’t do it alone anymore; the time someone asked how you were and wanted to listen to the answer. Don’t take this for granted, because moments like these don’t come in bulk. Acts of love can’t be bought on sale or saved for rainy days — they come when they come and the best you can do is recognize them for what they are: flashes that make life worth living.
Don’t take for granted the small things: the last time the sun kisses your face before three days of rain or having a pair of eyes to look into, hands to hold. A warm bed to collapse into at the end of a long day and an illuminated sky on a clear night. Embrace the people you can sit in silence with, and the ones who make you laugh for hours with little effort. The small things add up to big things, the big things add up to everything. Don’t take this for granted. - Stephanie Georgopulos
Nowadays, people are so jeezled up. If they took some chamomile tea and spent more time rocking on the porch in the evening listening to the liquid song of the hermit thrush, they might enjoy life more.
“When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month. I could have cried over it. I did. Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table. I spent my life learning to feel less. Every day I felt less. Is that growing old? Or is it something worse? You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.”
Snow, cream, marble, cherries, alabaster, golden wire? None of these. She was like a fox, or an olive tree; like the waves of the sea when you look down upon them from a height; like an emerald; like the sun on a green hill which is yet clouded–like nothing he had seen or known in England. Ransack the language as he might, words failed him. He wanted another landscape, and another tongue.