It matters, like this: I belong to Malvern, you don't.

The way Gansey saw it was this: if you had a special knack for finding things, it meant you owed the world to look.

I'm not done writing songs about you yet.

Reality's what other people dream for you.

I try very hard to keep my eyes from darting to Sean because I'm quite certain that no one will be able to miss how I look at him and how I find him looking back.

I hated this. I hated knowing what I wanted and knowing what was right and knowing they weren't the same thing.

Gansey leaned back, head thrown to the side, drunken and silly with happiness. "I love this car," he said, loud enough to be heard over the engine. "I should buy four more of them. I'll just open the door of one to fall in to the other. One can be a living room, one can be my kitchen, I'll sleep in one..." "And the fourth? Butler's pantry?" Blue shouted. "Don't be so selfish. Guest room.