“Those mornings were fragile things — like flowers blooming in the middle of a battlefield. She hadn’t realized then that the soil beneath them was already drowned in blood and bone, too rotten to let life truly take root.” — Maggie Sn Copy Share Image
I loved him even now, as he took a knife to my throat, as I drowned in blood, as I whispered "Cousin, you were wrong. We were born to live. — Alice Hoffman Copy Share Image
