“Boys,' she says, 'just aren't very good at being afraid.”

“Aren't you afraid?''Of what?''Of losing yourself.''That's what I'm hoping for.”

“There was nothing particularly special about her, except that she was good with numbers, and very good at lying, and she made her home in between the pages of books.”

“The best-case scenario here is that you make friends with a boy who's going to die.""Ah," said Calla, in a very, very knowing way. "Now I see.""Don't psychoanalyse me," her mother said."I already have. And I say again, 'ah'.”

“I like you better this way." For some reason, admitting this made her face go hot right away; she was very glad that he still had his face pressed into his pillow and the other boys were still in Noah's room. "Crushed and broken," Gansey said. "Just the way women like 'em.”

“There is nothing special about the mare, nothing at all. A fine enough head, good enough bone. As a pony, she is a beauty. As a capall uisce, she is nothing. The girl too, is nothing special - slight, with a ginger ponytail. She looks less afraid than her mare, but she's in more danger.”

“Grace,” I said, very softly. “Say something.”Sam,” she said, and I crushed her to me.”