Song of Myself (II)
40
Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your bask—lie over!
You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.
Earth! you seem to look for something at my hands,
Say, old top-knot, what do you want?
Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot,
And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot,
And might tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and days.
Behold, I do not give lectures or a little charity,
When I give I give myself.
You there, impotent, loose in the knees,
Open your scarf’d chops till I blow grit within you,
Spread your palms and lift the flaps of your pockets,
I am not to be denied, I compel, I have stores plenty and to spare,
And any thing I have I bestow.
I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me,
You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you.
To cotton-field drudge or cleaner of privies I lean,
On his right cheek I put the family kiss,
And in my soul I swear I never will deny him.
loneliness was a fundamental part of being a human in an essentially meaningless universe...
A marrige bond
Donatella spends a week pretending she’s a mermaid
Donatella steals a goat and names him Cuddles
Donatella steals all her sister’s underclothes
Donatella writes her first letter to Legend
Donatella marries the Prince of Hearts
Tella’s blood ran cold. She looked back over the table of contents, to see
if there was anything else that wasn’t true. But none of the other claims
were false.
Maybe the book had a sense of humor like the Map of All? Or maybe
Jacks had given her a fake map that led to a fake library where she’d gotten
this fake book.
She hadn’t married Jacks. Tella wasn’t married. She wasn’t even sure she
ever wanted to get married.
According to the table of contents, the event happened right after her
mother had died. Tella violently flipped through the book until she found
the dreaded chapter in question. She read each word carefully, but there
were sections that stood out more than others.
If her heart had not been so heavy with grief and pain, Donatella
would have known better than to trust the Prince of Hearts.
If she’d not been burning with despair, she would have realized the
danger in repeating magical words as her blood mingled with his.
If she’d not just watched her mother die, she would have known that
the Prince of Hearts was not taking her grief away because he cared.
The Prince of Hearts did not know how to care. He only knew how to
take what he wanted, and he wanted Donatella Dragna.
But poor Donatella was too grief-stricken to see it. When he told her to
speak, she repeated his words, creating an immortal bond that would
forever tie their souls together in eternal matrimony.
No way in all the hells. Tella didn’t want to believe it. But a part of her
felt it. If she was being really honest, she’d felt it since the night it had
happened, when she’d
loneliness was a fundamental part of being human in an essentially meaningless universe
"I found the connections between the sun and moon in mythology to be fascinating, as were explanations of how to interpret astrology and magic, and the hidden emotions of human beings."
e-kitap olarak okuyorum.
OMG
Nesta twisted to Feyre. “Can’t you find the Trove?” She hated each cowardly word, hated the fear in her heart, hated that in merely asking, she’d exposed her preference for Elain. “You’ve got all that magic, and you were Made yourself, even if it wasn’t by the Cauldron. You trained—you are a warrior. Can’t you find it?”
Again, that silence. But a different kind. Like a thunderhead about to break.
“No,” Feyre said quietly. “I can’t.” She looked to Rhys, who nodded, his eyes shining.
Everyone watched Feyre now. But Feyre’s attention remained fixed upon Nesta. “I can’t risk it.”
“Why?” Nesta snapped.
“Because I’m pregnant.”
Silence fell. Silence, and then Cassian let out a whoop of such joy that it shattered the fraught silence into smithereens, leaping from his chair to
tackle Rhys.
They went down in a tangle of wings and dark hair, and then Amren was saying to Feyre, light dancing in her eyes, “Congratulations, girl.”
Azriel stooped to press a kiss to Feyre’s head—or an inch from it.
“I knew that stupid shield wasn’t just to practice something Helion taught you,” Cassian was saying, giving Rhys a smacking kiss on the cheek before turning to Feyre and grabbing her to him. Rhysand relented on the shield enough that Cassian could wrap his arms around her, still laughing.
And as Rhys dropped the shield, Feyre’s scent filled the room.
It was Feyre’s usual scent, only—only something new. A smaller, softer scent, like a budding rose, lay within it.
Cassian laughed. “No wonder you’ve been a moody bastard, Rhys. I suppose we’re about to learn a whole new level of overprotective.”
Feyre glowered at him, then up at her mate. “We’ve already had discussions about this. The shield is a compromise.”
Amren smiled broadly. “What was his starting offer?”
Feyre scowled. “That he never
