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

This time of year, I live and breathe the beach. My cheeks feel raw with the wind throwing sand against them. My thighs sting from the friction of the saddle. My arms ache from holding up two thousand pounds of horse. I have forgotten what it is like to be warm and what a full night’s sleep feels like and what my name sounds like spoken instead of shouted across yards of sand. I am so, so alive.

I'm a dirt road out in the country kind of person, but I remember thinking, I could live in Chicago.

Eventually, the Gray Man thought, if he resisted using it for long enough, he himself might forget his own name, and became someone else entirely.

I laughed, loud enough that Delia looked up at me. She made motions for me to come over, but I pretended to be looking past her into the food tent. "Hurry. Pretend you're pointing something out so I can pretend not to see her." Luke put a hand on my shoulder and pointed with the other towards the sky. "Look, the moon." "That was the best you could come up with?" I demanded.

Overhead, the stars were wheeling and infinite, a complicated mobile made by giants.

Sam?" Rachel asked. "Do you know you have the saddest sad face ever?