Iris Winnow Quotes

They would be friends until they both finally acknowledged the truth. And they would have everything that other couples had—the arguments and the hand-holding in the market and the gradual exploration of their bodies and the birthday celebrations and the journeys to new cities and the living as one and sharing a bed and the gradual sense of melting into each other. Their names would be entwined—Roman and Iris or Winnow and Kitt because could you truly have one without the other?

She and Roman would survive this war. They would have the chance to grow old together, year by year. They would be friends until they both finally acknowledged the truth. And they would have everything that other couples had—the arguments and the hand-holding in the market and the gradual exploration of their bodies and the birthday celebrations and the journeys to new cities and the living as one and sharing a bed and the gradual sense of melting into each other. Their names would be entwined—Roman and Iris or Winnow and Kitt because could you truly have one without the other?—and they would write on their typewriters and ruthlessly edit each other’s pieces and read books by candlelight at night.

I rarely share this part of my life with others, but I want to tell it to you now. A piece of armor, because I trust you. A glint of falling steel, because I feel safe with you.

Marry me, Iris Elizabeth Winnow,” Roman whispered, drawing back to look at her. “I want to spend all my days and all my nights with you. Marry me.

Their names would be entwined—Roman and Iris or Winnow and Kitt because could you truly have one without the other?—

She and Roman would survive this war. They would have the chance to grow old together, year by year. They would be friends until they both finally acknowledged the truth. And they would have everything that other couples had—the arguments and the hand-holding in the market and the gradual exploration of their bodies and the birthday celebrations and the journeys to new cities and the living as one and sharing a bed and the gradual sense of melting into each other. Their names would be entwined—Roman and Iris or Winnow and Kitt because could you truly have one without the other?—and they would write on their typewriters and ruthlessly edit each other’s pieces and read books by candlelight at night. She wanted him. Leaving him behind in the trenches wasn’t even a possibility.

I rarely share this part of my life with others, but I want to tell it to you now. A piece of armor, because I trust you. A glint of falling steel, because I feel safe with you. -Roman C. Kitt

❝am i hurting you?❞ iris asked him. ❝no.❞ ❝are you squinting, kitt?❞ she teased. she could feel his breath in her hair as he murmured, ❝do you want to turn and see for yourself, winnow?❞

Voleva scrivere la verità

è che la vulnerabilità è una forza che molti di noi temono. Ci vuole coraggio a lasciar cadere questa corazza, a lasciare che gli altri vedano chi sei per davvero.

E non ho paura di restare da sola, ma sono stanca di essere quella che viene lasciata indietro

Non posso aspettarmi che qualcun altro mi renda completa; devo farcela da sola.

Per legge siamo entrambe adulte che possono bere alcol ed essere incolpate di omicidio, perciò al momento direi che Helena è salva

una persona, un pezzo di acciaio

is Iris.” “I have a message for you,” Roman said. “It must be delivered in person. Are you familiar with Gould’s Café?” Iris was quiet, her mind reeling. She was trying to pick apart every word he was saying in hopes she could understand what was happening. She was trying to glean the words he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—say. “Winnow?” he prompted. He hadn’t called her that in a long while. It took her back in time, as if they had flipped pages in a volume, returning to those Gazette chapters.

I'm not afraid of being alone, but I'm tired of being the one left behind" - Iris Winnow

Spring had at last found the city of Oath, but even the flood of sunshine couldn’t melt the frost in Iris Winnow’s bones.

I hope you know how proud I am of you, and how I think you are brave, returning to the front. I want to tell everyone I pass on the street that you’re my sister. That Iris E. Winnow of the Inkridden Tribune is my sister. Come home soon, Little Flower. I can’t wait to see you again. Love, your brother, Forest