Gansey leaned back, head thrown to the side, drunken and silly with happiness. "I love this car," he said, loud enough to be heard over the engine. "I should buy four more of them. I'll just open the door of one to fall in to the other. One can be a living room, one can be my kitchen, I'll sleep in one..." "And the fourth? Butler's pantry?" Blue shouted. "Don't be so selfish. Guest room.

Look, I realize both of you could happily strangle each other across the table, but I don't think that's the most effective use of our time, and frankly, I don't think I have enough money to tip the waitress for that kind of clean-up. And look, here's lunch. Let's eat that instead of eachother.

I wasn’t sure which of us was being more selfish—her, for wanting something that no one could promise, or me, for not promising her something that was too painfully impossible to want.

And then I did laugh, even though the future was a dangerous place, because I loved her, and she loved me, and the world was beautiful.

Sleep deprivation made his life an imaginary thing, his days a ribbon floating aimlessly in water." - Whelk

I think that whenever a book is not a challenge, I'm telling the wrong story.

The journal and Gansey were clearly long acquainted, and he wanted her to know. This is me. The real me.