“Mom, you're the one who said to never stop in case I get raped or picked up by a democrat.”

“Because you have no survival instinct, Grace. You're like a tank, you just chug along< thinking nothing can stop you, until you meet up with a bigger tank. Are you sure you want to go out with someone with that kind of history?" mom seemed to warm her theory. " he couldhave a psychotic break. I read that people get those when they're twenty-eight. he could be almost normal and then suddenly go slasher. I mean, you know I've never told you what to do with your life before now. But what if-I told you not to see him?"I hadn't been expecting that. My voice was brittle. "I would say that by virtue of your not acting parental up to this point, you've relinquished your abiblity to wield any power now. Sam and I are together. It's not an option."Mom threw her hands up as if trying to stop the Grace-tank from running over her. "Okay. Fine. Just be careful, okay? Whatever. I'm going to get a drink." And just like that her parental engergies were expendede.”

“Gabe crouches over the radio, trying to get it to pick up one of the mainland music stations, which only works when the weather is just right and the appropriate slain sacrifices have been made.”

“I found it.""People find pennies," Gansey replied. "Or car keys. Or four-leaf clovers.""And ravens," Ronan said. "You're just jealous 'cause" - at this point, he had to stop to regroup his beer-sluggish thoughts - "you didn't find one, too.”

“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'.”

“The buck stops here," Ronan said, pulling up the hand brake. "Home shit home.”

“Then I picked my book back up again and stroked her hair and read to the soundtrack of her breaths.”