Taea > Taea's Quotes

“One flesh, one end, bitch.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth

“I cannot conceive of a universe without you in it”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth

“I have tried to dismantle you, Gideon Nav! The Ninth House poisoned you, we trod you underfoot—I took you to this killing field as my slave—you refuse to die, and you pity me! Strike me down. You’ve won. I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand. You are my only friend. I am undone without you.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth

“Her adept said: "I'll keep it off you. Nav, show them what the Ninth House does."

Gideon lifted her sword. The construct worked itself free of its last confines of masonry and rotten wood and heaved before them, flexing itself like a butterfly.

"We do bones, motherfucker," she said.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth

“Harrow said, with some difficulty: "I cannot conceive of a universe without you in it."
"Yes you can, it's just less great and less hot," said Gideon."
"Fuck you, Nav—”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth

“It had bewildered her, back at Canaan House, how the whole of her always seemed to come back to Gideon. For one brief and beautiful space of time, she had welcomed it: that microcosm of eternity between forgiveness and the slow, uncomprehending agony of the fall. Gideon rolling up her shirt sleeves. Gideon dappled in shadow, breaking promises. One idiot with a sword and an asymmetrical smile had proved to be Harrow’s end: her apocalypse swifter than the death of the Emperor and the sun with him.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth

“Fuck one flesh, one end, Harrow. I already gave my flesh to you, and I already gave you my end. I gave you my sword. I gave you myself. I did it while knowing I’d do it all again, without hesitation, because all I ever wanted you to do was eat me.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth

“You remember how the fuck-off great aunts always used to say, Suffer and learn?

If they were right Nonagesimus, how much more can we take until you and me achieve omniscience?”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth

“This whole thing happened because you wouldn't face up to Gideon dying.' he said, which was a stab as precise as any Nonius had managed. 'I don't blame you. But where would you be, right now, if you'd said: She is dead? You're keeping her things like a lover keeping old notes, but with her death, the stuff that made her Gideon was destroyed. That's how Lyctorhood works, isn't it? She died. She can't come back, even if you keep her stuffed away in a drawer you can't look at. You're not waiting for her resurrection; you've made yourself her mausoleum.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth

“You're not waiting for her resurrection; you've made yourself her mausoleum.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth

“Life is too short and love is too long.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Nona the Ninth

“Camilla and Palamedes were loved by Nona, said Paul. Pyrrha was loved by Nona. It’s finished, it’s done. You can’t take loved away.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Nona the Ninth

“My necromancer and I always liked you...and hey, what’s like except a love that hasn’t been invited indoors?”
― Tamsyn Muir, Nona the Ninth

“We were children - playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water... Thinking it was space.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Nona the Ninth

“You can’t take loved away.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Nona the Ninth

“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

“Suddenly it's December and you're not 17 anymore. And you haven't been 17 for a very long time, but sometimes you need to remind yourself.”
― Margaux Paul