Call Down the Hawk (Dreamer, #1)

by Maggie Stiefvater

some forms of boring suggest that the wearer, deep down inside, might actually be a person of whimsy and nuance, but Declan made certain to practice a form of boring that suggested that, deep down inside, there was an even more boring version of him.

Everyone wanted to hug Matthew Lynch, and he wanted to let them.

Declan was a collector of beautiful, specific phrases that he would not let himself use in public, and the possessor of an illuminated, specific smile no one would ever see.

You are made of dreams and this world is not for you.

So there was burnished Gansey, who might not have saved Ronan’s life in high school, but at the very least kept it mostly out of Ronan’s reach so that he could not take it down and break it.

On weekdays, he gave in to the impulse of adding to his strange herds. On weekends, he spent Mass regretfully apologizing to God for his hubris.

Boudicca is the original goth.

Belonging in more than one world means that you end up belonging in none of them.

He looked like his brother, in a harder way, like Declan Lynch had been inserted into a pencil sharpener and Ronan Lynch had been taken out after.

Matthew leaned heavily against Declan, like he would’ve when he was small. Declan wasn’t a huggable Lynch, but Matthew had never cared. He’d hugged him anyway.

“If I was Dad’s, I’d be asleep,” Matthew said. “So I must be one of Ronan’s.”

“This painting isn’t of Aurora,” Declan said. “It’s of Mór Ó Corra, and she is my mother.”

It felt as if there should be consequences for being a boring, grown frat boy who enjoyed making people uncomfortable, and yet there did not seem to be.

Ronan had loved Richard C. Gansey III far more than he loved himself at that point,