Home > Author > Grace Curley
1 " Now that he had caught a glimpse of the world, he could no longer bear to be away from it. "
― Grace Curley , Finding Lost Stars
2 " The two lovers stood, hand in hand and close enough to feel their breath, overlooking, the calmness and harshness of the sea, a tenderness to its ferocity. "
3 " Love is weakness, Icarus, the man had said, grim, 'It is Man’s deadliest weapon, greater than the sword and mightier than the axe—because it can destroy you with a single breath. "
4 " He painted until his cursive brushes were only whispers of rawness on the thin ivory. Only the walls and the ravens that watchedknew the boy with the paint-stained palms weaved his art onto his sketchpad on the park bench at lunchtimes, and only the treeswhispered it like a prayer. "
5 " It was moon hour when the burning lovers tired, and encased themselves beneath each other’s warmth. Their lips spoke of forbidden promises and butchered daydreams, yearning for the sun and days, and nights stuck in a cage made for monsters. "
6 " But the seraphs that watched from above knew the tale: Gods and mortals may change their skies, but not their souls, who rush across the sea. "
7 " The labyrinth was dirty, constricting. The smell of wet and rotted vines littered the air, making his tentative hands twitch and curlwith desperation. How he wished to be free again! To feel the glaciers melt into springs and witness the stars turn themselvesover and over again under his fingertips. "
8 " Sun-brushed hands trailed circles on his wings, opening new ways to touch the sky. The dance is the dalliance of the whispers, unsaid desires brighter than eternal suns. His teeth of flint and steel, the sun boy’s lips like ichor. "
9 " Love is not weakness, father: it is strength. Love is what taught my skin to feel and my eyes to see. Love is not a weapon: it is light. "
10 " Throughout the slow burning of the day, the silver-skinned boy kissed the air with the ghost of moon-soaked lips, images circlinghis head and under his jaw, and paint spilled onto paper. He said he was not an artist, but the boy he remembered told him oncethat the language of art is such a sacred dream. And he believed him. "
11 " You cannot find peace by avoiding life, you know.” His mother smiled at him and sat across the table, spreading her papers around as if they were a tablecloth made of silken letters. "
12 " I live in sin.” The winged boy’s eyes hadturned downwards, his soft mouth setting grimly with despair. “To kill myself I live. No longer my life my own, but sin’s; my good is given to me by heaven, my evil by myself, by my free will, of which I am deprived. "
13 " All my life my heart has sought a thing I cannot name,' the silver boy said, eyes dancing over the horizon. 'But now that I have found it, I am not so sure I can handle knowing it. "
14 " They were sitting close to each other, heads together as if in scheme. He had suddenly wished that she had been with him at their house. He could imagine her as a little girl, eyes wild and hair untamed, running on her small but sturdy feet, climbing trees and earning scrapes, picking fruit from the highest branch. "
15 " A man is only ever himself when he has let go of the follies of being a man, and sobriety is that steel door separating man from his true conception. "
16 " Her smile cut sharper than a knife’s edge. "
17 " Art is created by artists. If ever he’d try to take lessons, it would be too many rules, too many steps. It would make his head hurt, not being able to splatter his emotions onto paper in his own way. "
18 " They were so peculiar, these days. They were so absurdly hopeful that their faces had taken on some of the stupidity of domestic beasts. "
19 " Soon their arms were wrapped around her, and at that moment Alice knew she had found a home, a permanent one, for the first time in her life. Not just within the brownstone walls of that house, but in the people who resided there. For the first time, Alice was apart of a family. "
20 " But there would also be a time when these fears would slowly ease—when the need to constantly lock and hide and protect would soften, and she would no longer startle at the gentle passing of fingertips on her back in the morning, or a playful jostle of her shoulder by a laughing girl. These things she hoped for, and knew would come. These things she held closest to her heart, like the first peak of sun over a mountain that whispered: You can have this. You can keep this. You deserve this. "
