All that mattered was that something had struck the match, and Gansey was burning.

This new world was a vicious, sleek world made of street lights and tight jeans, sharp smiles and fast cars. This was a city, edited. A city, pared down to its bare minimums, beautiful and abusive.

The biggest mistake you can make is assuming that creativity will hit you all at once and the muse will carry you to the end of the book on feather wings while Foster the People plays gently in the background. Storytelling is work. Pleasurable work, usually, but it is work.

I never taught him to break him thumb." "That's Gansey for you. Only learns enough to be superficially competent." "Loser," Ronan agreed, and he was himself again.

He cared for languages dead long enough that they wouldn’t change on him.

He is slow, and the sea sings to us both, but he returns to me.

I’ve been dead for seven years, that’s as warm as they get.