Some days seem to fit together like a stained glass window. A hundred little pieces of different color and mood that, when combined, create a complete picture.

She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness. It was the way she felt when she looked at the stars.

I considered calling Grace to ask her what I should say to a reticent suicidal werewolf, but I'd left my phone somewhere. Car, maybe.

You are being self-pitying." "I'm nearly done. You don't have much more of this to bear." "I like you better this way." "Crushed and broken," Gansey said. "Just the way women like 'em.

Aren't you afraid?' 'Of what?' 'Of losing yourself.' 'That's what I'm hoping for.

I feel like I have so many stories basting in my mind, and they come busting out when they're ready.

Grace: The idea was immediately unbearable, only because I wanted it to be true so badly it hurt