There is no better taste than this: someone else's laughter in your mouth.

Please kiss that girl a million times.

It was her eyes and my eyes and I felt a surging sensation of rightness, of saying the right thing at the right time to the right person.

After everything I'd lived through, I was not going to be reduced to a one-sentence definition.

There were so many different versions of him. It was countless versions of a song, and they were all original, and they were all true, and they were all right. It should have been impossible. Was I supposed to love them all?

I hated this. I hated knowing what I wanted and knowing what was right and knowing that they weren't the same thing.

Earlier in the year, she had had a vision of kissing him, and she could still picture that quite easily. But the sensible part of Blue, which was usually the only part of her, thought that had to do more with Richard Campbell Gansey III having a nice mouth than with any blossoming romance.

As always, [Adam's] features intrigued Blue. They were not quite conventionally handsome, but they were interesting. He had the typical Henriette prominent cheekbones and deep-set eyes, but his version of them was more delicate. It made him seem a little alien. A little impenetrable.

Adam's hand glided over her bare elbow. The touch was a whisper in a language she didn't speak very well.