The Bronzed Beasts

I don't think you're lost. You're just searching for the thing that fills you with light.

We've got hope, a flimsy plan, and a great deal of explosives. We've gotten by on less. Let's go.

History might be shaped by the tongues of conquerors, but it was not a fixed shape or story, and with every object they repatriated, it was like adding or recasting a sentence in a book whose pages were as wide and infinite as a horizon.

Growth and remorse are rather like stars: the surrounding dark makes them vivid enough to notice.

I'm trying out new hobbies. Pensive brooding, dramatic walking. I might even take up long, aggrieved exhales." "Sounds like an excellent use of time. I happen to excel in pensive brooding if you ever wish for instruction." "How generous of you!" "Generosity is my new habit of late.

If you think what we are doing is impossible, then let us rewrite what possibility means. Together.

Phoenix . . ." "Hmm?" "You are not actually thinking of hiding a large explosive near our faces, are you?" asked Enrique. "No," said Zofia. "Good-" "It's a very tiny explosive. Hardly larger than six centimeters." "No," said Hypnos and Enrique at the same time. Laila took that as her cue to leave.

Treasure is like a beautiful woman. It wants to know that you have taken the time to understand it, before it reveals itself." [...] "If I were treasure and I heard you utter that, I would sink to the bottom of the ocean where you would never find me.

Séverin had once imagined that gods had no weaknesses, but now he knew he was wrong. Even gods had a secret, soft throat. To wound them, you must not want them. You must turn your face and laugh at their riches. Rejection was a mortal blade that would always find purchase.

Some people could walk with galaxies tilting at their heart, planets grinding against their ribs, whole worlds dragging in their wake and never stealing their balance.

...children had no choice but to need the care of others. And if someone could dangle your needs before you, you were powerless.

In your hands lie the gates of godhood. Let none pass.

Enrique didn’t want a forced love. He wanted a love like a light, a presence that drove out the shadows and recast the world into something warm.

See? I'm more than a pretty face." "Of course you are. [...] You have shoulders and feet and a neck. Though I do not know whether those would be considered pretty.

She wanted to let in the moon and the clouds, the roofs of the cathedral and dim stars, and let it all burn and scrape inside her.

And Séverin? Séverin wanted godhood. Holding on to him would be like trying to wrestle down the moon.

I don’t want to simply try to change the world on my own by forcing my ideas on people … I’d much rather encourage them to think differently. I think that’s where lasting change will come from and

The unknown would come and go, but Zofia could always be a light. She had found her way out of the dark once. And she could do it again.

as a historian, he regarded the world in hindsight, but history was never dead

Enrique Mercado-Lopez knew many things. He knew about histories and languages, myths and legends. He knew how to kiss well, eat well, and dance well, and though he was uncertain about many situations at the moment, there was one thing he knew without a shadow of doubt: this was not his place.