"We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other."
—Patroclus, after he and Achilles finally get together. Of course that was when the Trojan War started.
'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.'
'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.'
—Page ninety-eight. Epitome of Harsher in Hindsight.
"I feel like I could eat the world raw"
—Achilles, shortly after that exchange.
"The sorrow was so large it threatened to tear through my skin. When he died, all things swift and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.''
—Patroclus, about the prospect of losing Achilles.
"The never-ending ache of love and sorrow. Perhaps in some other life I could have refused, could have torn my hair and screamed, and made him face his choice alone. But not in this one. He would sail to Troy and I would follow, even into death. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes."
"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. I felt a wild-eyed tightness in my chest, like a scream. Every day, without him.
—Patroclus
"We arrived in Phthia the next day. The sun was just over the meridian, and Achilles and I stood looking at the rail.
"Do you see that?"
"What?" As always, his eyes were sharper than mine.
"The shore. It looks strange."
As we drew closer we saw why. It was thick with people, jostling impatiently, craning their necks towards use. And the sound: at first it seemed to come from the waves, or the ship as it cut them, a rushing roar. But it grew louder with each stroke of our oars, until we understood that it was voices, then words. Over and over, it came. "Prince Achilles! Aristos Achaion!"
"Do you see that?"
"What?" As always, his eyes were sharper than mine.
"The shore. It looks strange."
As we drew closer we saw why. It was thick with people, jostling impatiently, craning their necks towards use. And the sound: at first it seemed to come from the waves, or the ship as it cut them, a rushing roar. But it grew louder with each stroke of our oars, until we understood that it was voices, then words. Over and over, it came. "Prince Achilles! Aristos Achaion!"
—Achilles, finally realizing just how much of a sway he has on people.
"Did he know, or only guess at Achilles' destiny? As he lay alone in his rose-colored cave, had some glimmer of prophecy come to him? Perhaps he simply assumed: a bitterness of habit, of boy after boy trained for music and medicine, and unleashed for murder."
—Patroclus, showing us that War Is Hell is in much more force here than in the original Iliad.
"Peleus stood at the shore's edge, one hand raised in farewell. True to his word, Achilles had not told him of the prophecy, merely hugged him tightly, as if to soak the old man into his skin. I had embraced him too, those thing, wiry limbs. I thought, This is what Achilles will feel like when he is old. And then I remembered: he will never be old."
—Patroclus
"He always needed to talk then, to tell me down to the last detail about the faces and the wounds and the movements of men. And I wanted to be able to listen, to digest the bloody images, to paint them flat and unremarkable onto the vase of posterity. To release him from it and make him Achilles again."
—Patroclus
“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.”
