The Song Of Achilles Quotes

“We reached for each other, and I thought of how many nights I had lain awake loving him in silence.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“We are all there, goddess and mortal and the boy who was both.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“I found myself grinning until my cheeks hurt, my scalp prickling till I thought it might lift off my head. My tongue ran away from me, giddy with freedom. This, and this, and this, I said to him. I did not have to fear that I spoke too much. I did not have to worry that I was too slender, or too slow. This and this and this! I taught him how to skip stones, and he taught me how to carve wood. I could feel every nerve in my body, every brush of air against my skin.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“There was more to say, but for once we did not say it. There would be other times for speaking, tonight and tomorrow and all the days after that. He let go of my hand.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“I conjure the boy I knew. Achilles, grinning as the figs blur in his hands. His green eyes laughing into mine. Catch, he says. Achilles, outlined against the sky, hanging from a branch over the river. The thick warmth of his sleepy breath against my ear. If you have to go, I will go with you. My fears forgotten in the golden harbor of his arms.
The memories come, and come. She listens, staring into the grain of the stone. We are all there, goddess and mortal and the boy who was both.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Name one hero who was happy."
"You can't." He was sitting up now, leaning forward.
"I can't."
"I know. They never let you be famous AND happy." He lifted an eyebrow. "I'll tell you a secret."
"Tell me." I loved it when he was like this.
"I'm going to be the first." He took my palm and held it to his. "Swear it."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the reason. Swear it."
"I swear it”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Achilles' eyes were bright in the firelight, his face drawn sharply by the flickering shadows. I would know it in dark or disguise, I told myself. I would know it even in madness.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“I saw then how I had changed. I did not mind anymore that I lost when we raced and I lost when we swam out to the rocks and I lost when we tossed spears or skipped stones. For who can be ashamed to lose to such beauty? It was enough to watch him win, to see the soles of his feet flashing as they kicked up sand, or the rise and fall of his shoulders as he pulled through the salt. It was enough.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“When he speaks at last, his voice is weary, and defeated. He doesn’t know how to be angry with me, either. We are like damp wood that won’t light.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“He did not fear ridicule, he had never known it.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Briseis is kneeling by my body. She has brought water and cloth, and washes the blood and dirt from my skin. Her hands are gentle, as though she washes a baby, not a dead thing. Achilles opens the tent, and their eyes meet over my body.

"Get away from him," he says.

"I am almost finished. He does not deserve to lie in filth."

"I would not have your hands on him."

Her eyes are sharp with tears. "Do you think you are the only one who loved him?"

"Get out. Get out!"

"You care more for him in death than in life." Her voice is bitter with grief. "How could you have let him go? You knew he could not fight!"

Achilles screams, and shatters a serving bowl. "Get out!"

Briseis does not flinch. "Kill me. It will not bring him back. He was worth ten of you. Ten! And you sent him to his death!"

The sound that comes from him is hardly human. "I tried to stop him! I told him not to leave the beach!"

"You are the one who made him go." Briseis steps towards him. "He fought to save you, and your darling reputation. Because he could not bear to see you suffer!"

Achilles buries his face in his hands. But she does not relent. "You have never deserved him. I do not know why he ever loved you. You care only for yourself!"

Achilles' gaze lifts to meet hers. She is afraid, but does not draw back. "I hope that Hector kills you."

The breath rasps in his throat. "Do you think I do not hope the same?" he asks.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“No man is worth more than another, wherever he is from."

"But what if he is your friend? Or your brother? Should you treat him the same as a stranger?"

"You ask a question that philosophers argue over. He is worth more to you, perhaps. But the stranger is someone else's friend and brother. So which life is more important?"

We had been silent. We were fourteen, and these things were too hard for us. Now that we are twenty-seven, they still feel too hard.

He is half my soul, as the poets say. He will be dead soon, and his honor is all that will remain. It is his child his dearest self. Should I reproach him for it? I have saved Briseis. I cannot save them all.

I know, now, how I would answer Chiron. I would say: there is no answer. Whichever you choose, you are wrong.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“An ugly man, with a face sharp like a weasel and a habit of running a flickering tongue over his lips before he speaks. But most ugly of all are his eyes: blue, bright blue. When people see them, they flinch. Such things are freakish. He is lucky he was not killed at birth.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no sounds, and the stillness frightened me. It is like a tomb. I rose and rubbed my limbs, slapped them awake, trying to ward off a rising hysteria. This is what it will be, every day, without him.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“I have done it,' she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. ACHILLES, it reads. And beside it, PATROCLUS.
'Go,' she says. 'He waits for you.'

In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood, like a hundred golden urns pouring out the sun.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Achilles. I cannot bear to see you grieving.
His limbs twitch and shudder.
Give us both peace. Burn me, and bury me. I will wait for you among the shades. I will -
But already he is waking. 'Patroclus! Wait! I am here!'
He shakes the body beside him. When I do not answer, he weeps again.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Her mouth tightens. 'Have you no more memories?'
I am made of memories.
'Speak, then.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“The knowledge rushes up in him, choking off breath. A scream comes, tearing its way out. And then another, and another. He seizes his hair in his hands and yanks it from his head. Golden strands fall on to the bloody corpse. Patroclus, he says, Patroclus, Patroclus. Over and over until it is sound only. Somewhere Odysseus is kneeling, urging food and drink. A fierce red rage comes, and he almost kills him there. But he would have to let go of me. He cannot. He holds me so tightly I can feel the faint beat of his chest, like the wings of a moth. An echo, the last bit of spirit still tethered to my body. A torment.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“He was worth ten of you. Ten! And you sent him to his death!”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“It is right to seek peace for the dead. You and I both know that there is no peace for those who live after.'
'No,' Achilles whispers.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“I have killed a son of Zeus, but it is not enough.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“The spear that I do not see comes from behind. It pierces the skin of my back, breaks again to air beneath my ribs. I stumble, driven forward by the blow's force, by the shock of tearing pain and the burning numbness in my belly. I feel a tug, and the spear-point is gone. The blood gushes hot on my chilled skin. I think I scream.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“My head drops back against the ground, and the last image I see is of Hector, leaning seriously over me, twisting his spear inside me as if he is stirring a pot. The last thing I think is: Achilles.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Achilles weeps. He cradles me, and will not eat, nor speak a word other than my name. I see his face as if through water, as a fish sees the sun.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“You have never deserved him. I do not know why he ever loved you. You care only for yourself!'
Achilles' gaze lifts to meet hers. She is afraid, but does not draw back. 'I hope that Hector kills you.'
The breath rasps in his throat. 'Do you think I do not hope the same?”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“He weeps as he lifts me on to our bed. My corpse sags; it is warm in the tent, and the smell will come soon. He does not seem to care. He holds me all night long, pressing my cold hands to his mouth.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Achilles hears the faint hum of its passage a second before it strikes. He turns his head a little, as if to watch it come. He closes his eyes and feels its point push through his skin, parting thick muscle, worming its way past the interlacing fingers of his ribs. There, at last, is his heart. Blood spills between shoulder blades, dark and slick as oil. Achilles smiles as his face strikes the earth.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“But fame is a strange thing. Some men gain glory after they die, while others fade. What is admired in one generation is abhorred in another...We cannot say who will survive the holocaust of memory. Who knows?...Perhaps one day even I will be famous. Perhaps more famous than you.'
'I doubt it.'
Odysseus shrugs. 'We cannot say. We are men only, a brief flare of the torch. Those to come may raise us or lower us as they please. Patroclus may be such as will rise in the future.'
'He is not.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“She made Pyrrhus, and loved him more than Achilles.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“I could not make him a god,' she says. Her jagged voice, rich with grief.
But you made him.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles