“
Zylar could not predict what medicine would make her better. Maybe healing would require art, music, or simply the solace of time. Whatever it took, he would help her surmount this tragedy.
— Ann Aguirre
Zylar could not predict what medicine would make her better. Maybe healing would require art, music, or simply the solace of time. Whatever it took, he would help her surmount this tragedy.
I’m not a woman you bring home to Mother, pick out china patterns with, or Mary forefend, breed. I’ve seen a chunk of the universe, true, but there’s still so much more to see. I doubt I’ll ever cure this wanderlust, and I’m content with dedicating my life to failing to sate it... He’s never going to sit at my feet and write me poems, which is good because I hate poetry, except dirty ones that rhyme.
