So maybe I should have spread my love out through some other mothers, too! If I didn’t love HER as much, then it wouldn’t feel so bad when she was gone! I could have some fallback parents, each containing a TINY piece of my affection so that when one goes away, I barely notice! Or maybe I should just not love anyone or anything! That makes it the easiest, really, because then I’ll never get let down! I will build a tower for my heart!
I was torn between wanting to rush out of this moment, toward that more, and wanting to stay in it, living in a state of constant anticipation and constant safety.
The future was getting here faster than I’d expected.
Now it was every guilty breath sucked in after a sort-of-lie. It was the drop of the stomach after finding a body. It was the gnawing suspicion that you were leasable, that you were too much trouble, that you were better off dead. It was the shame of wanting something that you shouldn’t; it was the ugly thrill of nearly being dead. It was all of those things, all at once.
It was against Ronan’s nature to appear overly interested in anything, but he couldn’t help staring at the Gray Man.
I don’t think that minor children are required to get gifts for their parents. I’m a dependent. That’s the definition of dependent, is it not?
Ronan was suddenly afraid of him. He was afraid of him in the same way that he was afraid of the night horrors. Because they had killed him before, and they would kill him again, and he precisely remembered the pain of each death. He felt the fear in his chest, and in his face, and in the back of his head. Sharp and stinging, like a tire iron.
Oh, yes, that – well, there is Richard Gansey the Third,” Calla said, catching sight of him. “And the snake. Where is Coca-Cola?
A life lived in fear is a life half-lived!
Do you know, it’s really hard to be a parent. I blame it on Santa Claus. You spend so long making sure your kid doesn’t know he’s fake that you can’t tell when you’re supposed to stop.
Back home at Bicho Raro, they sometimes called her la chica sin sentimientos. Beatriz did not mind being called a girl without feelings. The statement seemed true enough to her.
He could not remember the last time he had cried.
Ma’am, do you mind me asking who you’re angry at, then?” As Antonia Soria opened her mouth, dozens of names filled the space behind her teeth, waiting to be said. But in that moment, as she saw Pete’s guileless face and, behind him, the outline of Francisco’s greenhouse and, in it, its sleepless occupant looking back at her, she realized that the only name that was true in that space was her own.
Adam held out his right hand, and Gansey clasped it in a handshake, like they were en, because they were men.
Gansey didn’t know how he felt about this. He had been given this secret, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t know what Henry wanted from him. He had many assembled reactions prepared to deploy- sympathy, advice, concern, support, indignation, sorrow – but he didn’t know which combination was called for. He was used to knowing. He didn’t think Henry needed anything from him. This was a landscape with no map.
All of the Sorias were gifted with the ability to perform miracles, but into every generation, there were born a few who were more suited to the task than others: They were stranger or holier than other people, depending upon whom you asked. Daniel and Beatriz were the most saintly at the moment, and as Beatriz wanted desperately to not be the Saint, and Daniel wanted little else, balance was achieved.
Donated by an anonymous benefactor, for all the crooked saints.
Did you say Raven King?
Trusting someone and confiding in them are not the same thing... Gansey knew enough people with secrets not to be dazzled into easily using them as currency.
Don’t psychoanalyze me,” her mother said. “I already have. And I say again, ’ah.