Maggie Stiefvater

Stepping forward, leaning over the hood of the car, Ronan pressed his finger to the windshield, and while they watched, he wrote:

REMEMBERED

Jane, how do you feel about doing something slightly illegal and definitely distasteful?” Gansey asked.

The scent of Cabeswater, all trees after rain, drifted past Adam, and he realized that while he’d been looking at Ronan, Ronan had been looking at him

Inside, they pretended they would dream, but they did not. They sprawled on the living room sofa and Adam studied the tattoo that covered Ronan’s back: all the sharp edges that hooked wondrously and fearfully into each other.

“Unguibus et rostro,” Adam said.

Ronan put Adam’s fingers to his mouth.

He was never sleeping again.

A realization that even if you had discovered the future, it really didn’t change how you lived in the present. They were truth, but they weren’t all of the truth.

One, stay away from boys, because they were trouble. And two, stay away from Aglionby boys, because they were bastards

Not the currently dead, but the spirits of those who would die in the next twelve months

The way Gansey saw it was this: If you had a special knack for finding things, it meant you owed the world to look

Blue never grew tired of feeling particularly needed, but sometimes she wished needed felt less like a synonym for useful.

Is this how we make our way to death? Blue wondered. A stumbling fade-out instead of a self-aware finale?