I wanted a library like this...[] A cave of words that I'd made myself.

Grace. I held on to that name. If I kept that in my head, I would be OK. Grace. I was shaking, shaking; my skin peeling away. Grace. My bones squeezed, pinched, pressed against my muscles. Grace. Her eyes held me even after I stopped feeling her fingers gripping my arms. Sam," she said. "Don't go.

Blue thought about what Gansey had said, about being wealthy in love. And she thought about Adam, still collapsed on their sofa downstairs. If he had no one to wrap their arms around him when he was sad, could he be forgiven for letting his anger lead him?

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.

Eventually, the Gray Man thought, if he resisted using it for long enough, he himself might forget his own name, and became someone else entirely.

No. Not really. A weapon didn't come to an agreement with the hand that held it.

Because I knew it wasn't for forever." Grace touched his hair and he bent his head to kiss her, quiet as a secret.