To Grace, these were the things that mattered: my hands on her cheeks, my lips on her mouth. The fleeting touches that meant I loved her.

Hers was a memory made up of snapshorts: being dragged through the snow by a pack of wolves, first kiss tasting of oranges, saying goodbye behind a cracked windshield. A life made up of promises of what could be: the possibilities contained in a stack of college applications, the thrill of sleeping under a strange roof, the future that lay in Sam's smile. It was a life I didn't want to leave behind. It was a life I didn't want to forget I wasn't done with it yet. There was so much more to say.

Face flushed, I shook my head and stared at my white-knuckled grip on the bed. Of all my pet peeves, condescending adults were probably at the top of the list.

There doesn't seem like there should be an artful way to butcher a cow, but there is, and this is not it.

she's the only thing that's made my life worth living and if that's all I get, a few months with her- a few days, it's more than I've ever hoped for (Luke)

There's a metaphor for the American public in here," Gansey murmered darkly, "but it escapes me at the moment.

She had a short fuse this morning, because it was a day that ended with y, you see.