This is Rilke. I wish I had written it for you.

Its beyond him now. its time for you to do you own thing." "My thing? my thing only worked if Grace was here to make it work. without Grace, i have an emotionally unbalanced wolf and a Volkswagen.

All these perfect days, made of glass Put on the shelf where they can cast perfect shadows that stretch and grow on the imperfect days down below. ... perfect shadows that shift and glow... ... perfect shadows that shift and grow..." "Sam singing on page 256 of Linger.

Dying's a boring side effect.

The journal and Gansey were clearly long acquainted, and he wanted her to know. This is me. The real me.

The one reality was this: He was home. How badly he wanted to stay.

Gansey studied Adam's erratic handwriting. His letters always looked like they were running from something.