I remembered standing in the middle of the street in front of The Crooked Bookshelf, filled with the certainty of a future. I had heard the wolves howling behind the house and remembered how glad I had been to be human.

you just can't wait to get out of your head, can you?" "if you were in here you might want that too.

Ronan didn't need physics. He could intimidate even a piece of plywood into doing what he wanted.

Where do you live?" Adam's mouth was very set. "A place made for leaving" "That's not really an answer." "It's not really a place.

Some words have multiple meanings. Scholastic, aware that I'm allergic to preservatives, kindly got someone to translate the phrase "I can only eat food without preservatives" into Italian. They warned me, however, as they taught me how to say it, that the Italian word for "preservatives" is the same as the word for "condom." So that I should be careful how I look when I say it.

Sometimes Ronan thought Adam was so used to the right way being painful that he doubted any path that didn’t come with agony.

I couldn't think of anything to say. I was idiotically entranced by the way he said "Grace." The tone of it. The way his lips formed the vowels. The timbre of his voice stuck in my head like music.