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Quote by Kirsten Miller

“Fine. Fuck him, then kill him if that's what you have to do," Phoebe said. "But he needs to be killed." "Aren't you supposed to be the healer?" Brigid said. "Why don't you make yourself useful and get some bandages for our guest's gaping head wound.”

Quote by Kirsten Miller

Book:The Women of Wild Hill
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The Women of Wild Hill

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Author

Kirsten Miller
Kirsten Miller

Kirsten Miller is a contemporary novelist born in 1973. Her works are known for their fantasy and science fiction elements, which have won her a dedicated readership. more

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“إنكم تنظرون إلى ما فوقكم عندما تتشوقون إلى الاعتلاء،اما انا فقد علوت حتى أصبحت اتطلع إلى ما تحت أقدامي فهل فيكم من يمكنه أن يضحك وهو واقف على الذرى..من يحوم فوق أعالي الجبال يستهزئ بجميع مآسي الحياة ويستهزئ بمسارحها بل بالحياة نفسها”

Philosophyفلسفةفلسفة ألمانية
Book:هكذا تكلم زرادشت
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“She'd been so quick to believe the worst of her sister. Now Phoebe knew why. She'd wanted to. Her entire life, Phoebe had defined her place in the world in relation to Brigid. She was the sweet one. The easy one. The healer. She needed Brigid to be the bad sister in order for her to be the good one. But she'd mixed up their roles. She'd been wrong about everything. Brigid saw her sister start to crumble. "Hey, Phoebe, don't lose it," she said. "It's all in the past now. I just wish I'd killed that bitch when I had the chance. The fire ants would have been the perfect solution. No open casket." Her sister's kindness destroyed the last of Phoebe's defenses, and the tears finally broke through. "I'm sorry," she blubbered. "I'm sorry for blaming you for Mom's death, and I'm sorry for believing your stepmother. I'm fucking awful." "Yeah," Brigid said, pulling Phoebe into her arms. "You're a real asshole. But you're also my sister, and I'll always love you.”

RealizationSistersReconciliationSelf Awareness Honesty
Book:The Women of Wild Hill
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“In the attic, the three discovered an entire rack of evening gowns representing every fashion trend of the twentieth century. Brigid chose a strapless black cocktail dress that Sadie had worn. Phoebe found a flowing white Halston that Flora purchased back in the seventies. And Sibyl chose a gold-beaded flapper dress that had belonged to her great-great-grandmother, Rose. Liam sent a car to fetch them for the party. Gathered in the foyer, it was the first time they saw each other in their formal wear. Brigid's eyes were smoky and lips scarlet. Her red hair fell over her bare shoulders, where blue veins were just visible beneath violet-tinged skin. Phoebe's skin glowed with no assistance from makeup, and she wore her hair in a crown of braids woven through with a golden ribbon. Sibyl was where all the Duncans traits met. She was light and dark, glamorous and natural. Her red curls formed a bloom around her lovely face. The Three looked, very much, like a trio.”

FamilySistersWitchesAuntMother DaughterAncestorsNieceSlayFashion SenseTrio
Book:The Women of Wild Hill
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