Lovely War

If music stops, and art ceases, and beauty fades, what have we then?

The most ordinary mortal bodies are housed by spectacular souls.

Let them start their dreadful wars, let destruction rain down, and let plague sweep through, but I will still be here, doing my work, holding humankind together with love like this.

The first casualty of war is the truth.

I envy the mortals. It's because they're weak and damaged that they can love. She shakes her head. We need nothing. They’re lucky to need each other.

Kisses by the billions happen every day, even in a lonely world like ours. But this is a kiss for the ages.

You're a brand-new piece of sheet music,' she said slowly, 'for a song which, once played, I'd swear I'd always known.

I am so often moved by souls whose first concern is not for their own lost years, but for the grief their passing will cause to those they love. It's more common than you might think. The most ordinary mortal bodies are housed by spectacular souls.

It was the dimples. Empires have swiveled on less.

Mortals aren't meant to love perfection. It disillusions and destroys them in the end.

You may ask me, as others have done before, whether it was kindness or cruelty to allow them to meet, so soon before his departure, with so little time to discover each other. Whether the pangs of loss do not invalidate the bliss of love. Especially where war is concerned, and Death runs rampant with his bloody scythe. You may say that it was wicked of me to allow James to find Hazel, and Hazel, James, if three days were all they would have. I don’t call it cruelty. I do not apologize.

The scars were a reminder that she came back.

Hazel glanced sidelong at him, and saw him breathe in time with the music. She saw tears well at the rims of his dark eyes. This one, she decided. This lad, for me. And it was done.

And when she sobbed until her eyes were bloodshot and her nose ran, he gave her a handkerchief and took advantage of nothing. Nothing but the chance to say, wordlessly, Here; you’ve been carrying that alone for a long time. Let me carry it with you awhile.

Grief is not a contest,' she said.

It was Archimedes of Syracuse who first said that the shortest distance between two points was the straight line connecting them. Far be it from me to ever cast a shadow upon the wisdom of a Golden Age Greek, but Archimedes had it wrong. The length of the straight line between two people who don't dare admit they're in love is infinite.

Lies are worse than no comfort at all. Especially to a mind already scorched by the truth.

Colette,” he told her. “I can love Stéphane. I can honor his memory. I can love your parents, and your brother, your uncles, your cousin. I can love them beside you, and I will, if you let me.

Heroism is much too heavy a burden to carry.

Joy can do that. It can hurt as much as pain.

How did one nation produce both humble souls and killers?

Here; you’ve been carrying that alone for a long time. Let me carry it with you awhile.

The war, she saw, killed more than those whose families received telegrams.

There is something wonderful about being in love in a city where you know no one. Public opinion of your behavior isn't worth a trifle. So, if you want to kiss your girl at the esplanade of the Eiffel Tower, you do.

I love this boy. In a purely spiritual sense.

If he was trying to kill her through kiss deprivation, it was working.

[...] they quickly became brothers-in-law, or, if not in law, in truth.

Did you know food is infinitely more scrumptious when you're in love?" -Aphrodite

I like to keep a little bit of nervousness simmering. It keeps mortals alert at crucial moments. Sensitive to every detail. It imprints lasting memories. These moments belong to forever" -Aphrodite

You're not really here, are you?" says James. "This is part of my madness?" "Does it matter?" asked Frank. "If it's madness telling you to marry that girl and be happy, whose advice would you rather have?