Blue Lily, Lily Blue (The Raven Cycle, #3)

by Maggie Stiefvater

There was something of a turtle in his visage, and he had not only one chin, but another waiting in line behind it.

How he despised them, how he wanted to be them. How pointless to summer in Maine, how much he wanted to do it. How affected he found their speech, how he coveted their lazy monotones. He couldn’t tell how all of these things could be equally true.

When he answered it, he was first surprised that the person on the other side was real, and then he was surprised that the person was Gansey and not Ronan.

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.

Maybe it was good that the world forgot every lesson, every good and bad memory, every triumph and failure, all of it dying with each generation. Perhaps this cultural amnesia spared them all. Perhaps if they remembered everything, hope would die instead.

The sun eased down behind the tree line, making a black lace of the leaves and a white lace of her hair.

Ronan and Adam may have seen this place as magical, but Gansey and Blue’s wonder made it holy. It became a cathedral of bones.