What are you, Rose Hathaway? Are you real? You're a dream within a dream. I'm afraid touching you will make me wake up. You'll disappear.

A girl just asked for SAT scores good enough to get her into Yale. I think she was nine.

You know, Aunt Tasha makes jokes about how youʹd actually be a better queen than the others, except sometimes . . . I donʹt think sheʹs joking.

Hey." She said, looking up from an open book propped up on one knee. She brushed a few strands of pale hair out of her face. Her boyfriend, Christian, lay on the floor near her, his head propped up on her other knee. He greeted me by way of a nod. Concidering the antagonism the sometimes flared up between us, that was almost on par with him giving me a bear hug.

It's like living in a retirement home! Clarence is taking a nap right now, and he eats at five. It's so boring." "You've only been here for two days." "And that's been more than enough. The only thing keeping me alive is that he keeps a hefty supply of liquor on hand. But at the rate I'm going, that'll be gone by the weekend. Jesus Christ, I'm climbing the walls." His eyes fell on the cross at my neck. "Oh. Sorry. No offense to Jesus.

Nice blouse, Sage,” Adrian told me, deadpan. “It really brings out the khaki in your pants.

Seth told us good night and left. I watched him go wistfully. “Anyone else here feel like swooning?