| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 33363c6 | My reading and studying and retellings of old stories didn't do anything except help me think better. I was at least thoughtful. Too thoughtful, my friends said. And all I thought about was myths and old paintings that made me feel drunk on wine or struck my lightning but didn't matter to most people. | retellings mythology | Francesca Lia Block | |
| 36d47ee | I reached out my hands to them, suddenly: I put out my hand to Sergey on one side, and to Stepon on the other, and they put out their hands to me, and to each other, and we held tight, tight; we made a circle together, my brothers and me, around the food that we had been given, and there was no wolf in the room. | fantasy retellings | Naomi Novik | |
| 6dd2b5e | The only thing that had ever done me any good in my father's house was thinking: no one had cared what I wanted, or whether I was happy. I'd had to find my own way to anything I wanted. I'd never been grateful for that before now, when what I wanted was my life. | fantasy retellings | Naomi Novik | |
| 56bf2de | He is mine, too. | fantasy retellings | Naomi Novik |