Blue Lily, Lily Blue

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if I kiss you,” he whispered. “Maybe it’s only if you kiss me.”

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

Adam understood, then, that Gansey and Blue’s awe changed this place. Ronan and Adam may have seen this place as magical, but Gansey and Blue’s wonder made it holy.

But to look at them was to see beyond them, and to see beyond them was to be dazzled again by this spectacle of bones.

As Gansey shut the door behind him, he heard Adam say, “I don’t want to talk,” and Ronan reply, “The fuck would I talk about?”

Two is a terrible number. Two is for rivalry and fighting and murder.”
“Or marriage,” Adam said, thinking.
“Same thing,” Persephone replied.

Humans were so circular; they lived the same slow cycles of joy and misery over and over, never learning. Every lesson in the universe had to be taught billions of times, and it never stuck. How arrogant we are, Adam thought, to deliver babies who can’t walk or talk or feed themselves. How sure we are that nothing will destroy them before they can take care of themselves. How fragile they were, how easily abandoned and neglected and beaten and hated. Prey animals were born afraid.
He had not known to be born afraid, but he’d learned.

See, Adam Parrish is wantable, worthy of a crush, not just by anyone, someone
like Ronan, who could want Gansey or anyone else and chose Adam for his
hungry eyes.

Beside her, Adam was once again retreating inside himself, most interested, as always, in the thing that remained unknowable to him: his own mind.

Only it didn’t seem to be worth kicking anything when there wasn’t anyone around to see her do it.