Resurrected Quotes

“After each of his books, the writer, for a while, feels once again that he can now die happy.”
― Criss Jami, Healology

“The metal door began to roll open as she held her breath. Its parts creaked like the bones of a giant roused from his slumber, like a Lazarus that had hidden his flaming heart within fireproof walls, patiently sleeping as the comatose do.

The smell hit her first. Mold. Dampness. Cold lifeless things.

Within, there was a darker sort of silence, as if the building had been holding its breath for so long it had forgotten how to breathe.”
― Angela Panayotopulos, The Wake Up

“The strewn and tangled wreckage that litters our lives is the precious raw material from which great beginnings are forged.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“Stay, I begged. Stay.

Light glowed beyond my shut eyelids.

Stay.

And in that silence... I began to tell him.

About that first night I'd seen him. When I'd heard that voice beckoning me to the hills. When I couldn't resist its summons, and now... now I wondered if I had heard him calling for me on Calanmai. If it had been his voice that brought me there that night.

I told him how I had fallen in love with him- every glance and passed note and croak of laughter he coaxed from me. I told him of everything we'd done, and what it had meant to me, and all that I still wanted to do. All the life still left before us.

And in return... a thud sounded.

I opened my eyes. Another thud.

And this his chest rose, lifting my head with it.

I couldn't move, couldn't breathe-

A hand brushed my back.

Then Rhys groaned. 'If we're all here, either things went very, very wrong or very right.'

Cassian's broken laugh cracked out of him.

I couldn't lift my head, couldn't do anything but hold him, savouring every heartbeat and breath and the rumble of his voice as Rhys rasped, 'You lot will be pleased to know... My power remains my own. No thieving here.'

'You do know how to make an entrance,' Helion drawled. 'Or should I say exit?'

'You're horrible,' Viviane snapped. 'That's not even remotely funny-'

I didn't hear what else they said. Rhys sat up, lifting me off him. He brushed away the hair clinging to my damp cheeks.

'Stay with the High Lord,' he murmured.

I hadn't believed it- until I looked into that face. Those star-flecked eyes.

Hadn't let myself believe it wasn't anything but some delusion-

'It's real,' he said, kissing my brow.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Tokyo." Mr. Fuchigami's voice inflates with pride. "Formerly Edo, almost destroyed by the 1923 Great Kantō earthquake, then again in 1944 by nighttime firebombing raids. Tens of thousands were killed." The chamberlain grows silent. "Kishikaisei."
"What does that mean?" There's a skip in my chest. We've entered the city now. The high-rises are no longer cut out shapes against the skyline, but looming gray giants. Every possible surface is covered in signs---neon and plastic or painted banners---they all scream for attention. It's noisy, too. There is a cacophony of pop tunes, car horns, advertising jingles, and trains coasting over rails. Nothing is understated.
"Roughly translated, 'wake from death and return to life.' Against hopeless circumstances, Tokyo has risen. It is home to more than thirty-five million people." He pauses. "And, in addition, the oldest monarchy in the world."
The awe returns tenfold. I clutch the windowsill and press my nose to the glass. There are verdant parks, tidy residential buildings, upmarket shops, galleries, and restaurants. For each sleek, new modern construction, there is one low-slung wooden building with a blue tiled roof and glowing lanterns. It's all so dense. Houses lean against one another like drunk uncles.
Mr. Fuchigami narrates Tokyo's history. A city built and rebuilt, born and reborn. I imagine cutting into it like a slice of cake, dissecting the layers. I can almost see it. Ash from the Edo fires with remnants of samurai armor, calligraphy pens, and chipped tea porcelain. Bones from when the shogunate fell. Dust from the Great Earthquake and more debris from the World War II air raids.
Still, the city thrives. It is alive and sprawling with neon-colored veins. Children in plaid skirts and little red ties dash between business personnel in staid suits. Two women in crimson kimonos and matching parasols duck into a teahouse.”
― Emiko Jean, Tokyo Ever After

“It has been many years since I let a man kiss me... When our lips met, parts of me that I had forgotten existed, thawed out from neglect and rose back to life like when Jesus was resurrected.”
― Piper Huguley, By Her Own Design: A Novel of Ann Lowe, Fashion Designer to the Social Register

“Everything was black, and warm- and thick. Inky, but bordered with gold. I was swimming, kicking for the surface, where Tamlin was waiting, where life was waiting. Up and up, frantic for air. The golden light grew, and the darkness became like sparkling wine, easier to swim through, the bubbles fizzing around me, and-

I gasped, air flooding my throat.

I was lying on the cold floor. No pain- no blood, no broken bones. I blinked. A chandelier dangled above me- I'd never noticed how intricate the crystals were, how the hushed gasp of the crowd echoed off them. A crowd- meaning I was still in the throne room, meaning I... I truly wasn't dead. Meaning I had... I had killed those... I had... The room spun.

I groaned as I braced my hands against the floor, readying myself to stand, but- the sight of my skin stopped me cold. It gleamed with a strange light, and my fingers seemed longer where I'd laid them flat on the marble. I pushed to my feet. I felt- felt strong, and fast and sleek. And-

And I'd become High Fae.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“The grace of repentance brings resurrected joy.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita