I remembered standing in the middle of the street in front of The Crooked Bookshelf, filled with the certainty of a future. I had heard the wolves howling behind the house and remembered how glad I had been to be human.
A novel is a conversation starter, and if the author isn’t there for the after-party, both the writer and the reader are missing a lot.
I am an introvert. I should get that out there now.
I do all of my good thinking at over 65 miles per hour. The speed limit is, luckily, the same speed as my brainstorming speed.
I’m not looking for self-control.
She liked to imagine him stealing a glimpse of her over the backyard fence, proudly watching his strange daughter daydream under the beech tree. Blue was awfully fond of her father, considering she’d never met him.
Fro and to in my dreams to you To the haunting tune of the harp For the price I paid when you died that day I paid that day with my heart Fro and to in my dreams to you With the breaking of my heart Ne’er more again will I sing this song Ne’er more will I hear the harp.
Finn never looks more excited – he just gets faster. Finns are generally slow-moving creatures.
My father said once that if I didn’t have my mother’s ginger hair, I wouldn’t blush or curse as easily. Which I though was unfair. I hardly ever curse or blush, even though I’ve had plenty of days that required both.
Sean, as always, gets by on one word while everyone else needs five or six.
I feel a strange, fierce squeeze in my heart when I see him, like pride, although there’s nothing about Sean that I can take credit for.
Once upon a time, this moment – this last light of the evening the day before the race – was the best moment of the year for me. The anticipation of the game to come. But that was when all I had to lose was my life.
The only thing is, the more I see him and Corr together, the more I think of how unbearable it would be for Sean to lose him. But we can’t both win.
She had a short fuse this morning, because it was a day that ended with y, you see.
We all, one day, realize that we’re not going to be kids forever and we’re going to grow up.
There was nothing particularly intimate about the way they sat, but something about the scene made Gansey feel strange, like he’d heard an unpleasant statement and later forgotten everything about the words but the way they had made him feel.
It’s a strange thing, to be talked about instead of talked to.
It’s only because I’ve lived with brothers that I realize, after a moment, that he’s not looking outside but rather inside, wrestling with something inside himself. And there’s nothing for it but to wait.
As always, there was an all-American war hero look to him, coded in his tousled brown hair, his summer-narrowed hazel eyes, the straight nose that ancient Anglo-Saxons had graciously passed on to him. Everything about him suggested valor and power and a firm handshake.
Delia was an overbearing cake with condescending frosting, and frankly, I was on a diet.