You're not going to die," I told her, lifting my head to look at her. "I'm not done writing songs about you yet.

His home was populated by things and creatures from Niall Lynch's dreams, and his mother was just another one of them

He strode over to the ruined church. This, Blue had discovered, was how Gansey got places - striding. Walking was for ordinary people.

Oh, I'll buy fourteen dresses and build a road and name it after myself and try one of everything at Palsson's." Though I don't quite look up, I can still feel his gaze on me. It's a heavy thing, this look of his. He says," What's the real answer?

With Blue here, he was beginning to feel as if possibly he'd overdone it with the helicopter. He wondered if it would make Blue feel better or worse to know that it was Helen's helicopter, that he hadn't paid anything today for the use of it. Probably worse. Remembering his vow to at least do no harm with his words, he kept his mouth shut.

You’re my change of skin / my summer-winter-fall / I spring to follow you / this loss is beautiful.

He danced on the knife’s edge between awareness and sleep. When he dreamt like this, he was a king. The world was his to bend. His to burn.