Are there any other missing persons living under your roof? Elvis? Jimmy Hoffa? Amelia Earhart? I'd just like full disclosure now, before we go any further.

It was mint and memories and the past and the future and she felt as if she’d done this before and already she longed to do it again.

But love isn't quantifiable on paper.

Being Adam Parrish was a complicated thing, a wonder of muscles and organs, synapses and nerves. He was a miracle of moving parts, a study in survival. The most important thing to Adam Parrish, though, had always been free will, the ability to be his own master. This was the important thing. It had always been the important thing. This was what it was to be Adam.

Calla readjusted, wrapping the silk around her other thigh instead. "Which one's he again? The pretty one?" Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue's look said, I'm so, so sorry. Gansey's said, Am I the pretty one?

The world needs more love at first sight.

I have to walk dogs." "Oh," Gansey replied, sounding deflated. "Well, okay." "But it'll only take an hour." "Oh," he repeated, about fourteen shades brighter. "Shall I pick you up, then?