Blue was a fanciful, but sensible thing. Like a platypus, or one of those sandwiches that had been cut into circles for a fancy tea party.

You needn't tell a bird it's a bird. Or remind a fish of its purpose. It's only us who lose our way. We have names because we must. - from Golden Tongue: The Poems of Steven Slaughter

Fate," Blue replied, glowering at her mother, "is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfast.

Lunch." I said. "Immediately. I'm going to wither away to absolutely nothing. Then you'll be racked with guilt." "I doubt it.

I'd be happy with this summer if it's all we ever had.

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.

Mom, you're the one who said to never stop in case I get raped or picked up by a democrat.