Joscelin, is love supposed to make you feel like you’re sick and dying, and mad enough to hit someone and drunk with joy, and your heart’s a boulder n your chest trying to burst into a thousand pieces all at once?”
“Mm-hmm.” He finished his ale. “That would be love.

Jacqueline Carey

Mots clés love imriel-no-montreve joscelin-verreuil imriel-de-la-courcel

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To my surprise, Joscelin rose. ‘Phedre-’ He began, then halted. Sitting below him, I watched him smile to himself, quiet and private. ‘Phedre yields with a willow’s grace,’ he said softly. ‘And endures with the strength of mountains. Without her, life would be calm; and yet lack all meaning.

Jacqueline Carey

Mots clés love joscelin-verreuil imriel-de-la-courcel

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