Gansey studied Adam’s erratic handwriting. His letters always looked like they were running from something.
The only thing was, she didn’t really want to see the future. What she wanted was to see something no one else could see or would see, and maybe that was asking for more magic that was in the world.
Ronan didn’t need physics. He could intimidate even a piece of plywood into doing what he wanted.
He didn’t like to see either of the women in his family disappointed; it ruined perfectly good meals.
She leaned toward me, offering her neck, and I kissed her just behind her ear.
Most people had an acquired kind of beauty, they became better looking the longer you knew them and the better you loved them, but Cole had unfairly skipped to the end of the game, all jaggedly handsome and Hollywood-looking. Not needing any love to get there.
It’s like thinking you’re going to heaven, but when you get there it turns out to be Cleveland.
The entire room was so yellow that it looked like the sun had thrown up on the walls and wiped its mouth afterward on the dresser and curtains. – Cole.
It’s like how on certain days some people wear sweaters when other people can wear t-shirts and still feel comfortable – different reactions to the same temperature.
It occurred to me then that I was the opposite of my father. Because I was very, very good at destroying things.
This is a love story. I never knew there were so many kinds of love or that love could make people do so many different things. I never knew there were so many different ways to say goodbye.
Because you know that’s not how you want it to end. You know I’d love to have you with me, and it will be that way, one day. But this isn’t the way it ought to happen.
As I handed her the bag, the old scars on my wrist throbbed with buried memories.
Without turning on the light, I went to my bed and lay down, my arm thrown across the mattress, my hand aching because Grace wasn’t underneath it.
Not dead-dying. Funny how two things could be so similar and yet so far apart.
Every third step I ran, my breath exploded out of me all in a rush. One step to suck in another cold lungful. One step to let it excape. One step of not breathing.
I’d always liked jogging because it was a place to think.
Get some money, buy a red coffeepot, move out. Find a new place to plug it in.
I had risked everything, and I had nothing to show for it but my open hand, lying empty and palm up toward the ceiling.
Rilke says: Verweilung, auch am Verstrautesten nicht, ist uns gegeben – We are not allowed to linger, even with what is most intimate.