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

They bit you. You should've changed, too, you know." "Sometimes I wish I had," I told him. He closed his eyes, miles away on the other side of the bed. "Sometimes I do, too.

Did you get Mom a birthday present?" Helen asked. "Yes," Gansey replied. "Myself." "The gift that keeps on giving." "I don't think that minor children are required to get gifts for their parents. I'm a dependent. That's the definition of dependent, is it not?" "You, a dependent!" his sister said, and laughed. "You haven't been a dependent since you were four. You went straight from kindergarten to old man with a studio apartment.

If she and Sam ever had kids, they'd be gluten-intolerant out of self-defence.

It is possible to be in love with you just because of who you are.

I could just barely see the dark curve of his shoulder, and something about the shape it made, the gesture it suggested, filled me with a sort of fierce, awful affection.

I fell asleep to the scent of my wolf. Pine needles, cold rain, earthy perfume, coarse bristles on my face.