Jesteśmy społecznością, która kocha książki

Gansey asked, “Do you have time to run an errand with us? Do you have work? Homework?”
“No homework. I got suspended,” Blue replied.
“Get the fuck out,” Ronan said, but with admiration. “Sargent, you asshole.”
Blue reluctantly allowed him to bump fists with her as Gansey eyed her meaningfully in the rearview mirror.
[...] “For what?”
“Emptying another student’s backpack over his car. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“I do,” Ronan said.
“Well, I don’t. I’m not proud of it.”
Ronan patted her leg. “I’ll be proud for you”.

Był niczym książka, trzymał swe ostatnie stronice i chciał dotrzeć do końca, by dowiedzieć się, jak zakończyła się opowieść, a jednocześnie nie chciał jej dokończyć.

-Od roku próbowałm cię rozgryźć
-Jestem niejadalny.

Here is what I have learned. If you cannot be unafraid – be afraid and happy.

Miało świadomość, że czasami nie chodziło o ocalenie siebie, lecz o utrzymanie się wystarczająco długo, by ktoś mógł ocalić ciebie.

When Adam kissed him, it was every mile per hour Ronan had ever gone over the speed limit. It was every window-down, goose-bumps-on-skin, teeth-chattering-cold night drive. It was Adam’s ribs under Ronan’s hands and Adam’s mouth on his mouth, again and again and again. It was stubble on his lips and Ronan having to stop, to get his breath, to restart his heart. They were both hungry animals, but Adam had been starving for far longer.

Tell me you won't tell me but don't tell me a lie.

Chcieć żyć, lecz akceptować śmierć, by ocalić innych - na tym polegała odwaga.

His feelings for Adam were an oil spill; he'd let them overflow and now there wasn't a damn place in the ocean that wouldn't catch fire if he dropped a match.

Nic nie przychodzi z niczego, które przychodzi z niczego. Coś daje jednak coś.

I stopped asking how. I just did it. The head is too wise. The heart is all fire.

Adam uśmiechnął się wesoło. Ronan był zdolny wszczynać wojny i palić miasta dla tego uśmiechu: prawdziwego, pogodnego i przyjaznego.

Coś więcej" doskonale tłumaczyło, dlaczego nigdy nie potrafił powiedzieć, o co mu chodziło - z definicji "coś więcej" zawsze różniło się od tego, czym już się dysponowało.

He was a king.
This was the year he was going to die.

Czyń drugiemu z cichą nadzieją, że i on uczyni tobie.

Ronan szarpnięciem poluzował krawat.
- Pracujesz po szkole? - spytał
- Ze śniącym.
Wytrzymał spojrzenie Ronana nad drzwiami szafki.
W szkole nagle zrobiło się lepiej.

You’re just some kind of subfuckery of my imagination.

She was the oldest, and had seen a demon before, and knew that sometimes it wasn't about saving yourself, it was about holding out for long enough until someone else could save you.

Gansey's phone buzzed again.
"Gansey, man, is this diseased tree cutting into your digital time?" Ronan asked.
The fact was the digital time was cutting into his diseased tree time.

As in any good compromise, both parties were vaguely displeased, but said nothing about it.

He wants you guys to drive matching cars? That seems sentimental for a man without soul.

Was Ronan even human? Half a dreamer, half a dream, maker of ravens and hoofed girls and entire lands.

Na wojnie nie ma żadnych zasad, oprócz tego, by pozostać przy życiu.

-Jeśli nie potrafisz się nie bać - powiedział Henry - bój się oraz bądź szczęśliwy.

Greenmantle napił się prosto z butelki - gdy wybierał ją w kuchni, uznał, że będzie wyglądało bardziej żałośnie i desperacko pod względem estetycznym, niż gdyby trzymał pojedynczy kieliszek. Żałował, że nie ma nikogo, kto mógłby ujrzeć, jak żałośnie i desperacko pod względem estetycznym wyglądał.

Richard Gansey III had forgotten how many times he had been told he was destined for greatness.

(....) czasami odejście pomaga. I pożegnania nie zawsze są ostateczne. Można odejść i wrócić.

Miłość nie jest przywilejem.

He learned that lies were only dangerous if you sometimes told the truth.

The world didn’t have words to measure hate. There were tons, yards, years. Volts, knots, watts. Ronan could explain how fast his car was going. He could describe exactly how warm the day was. He could specifically convey his heart rate. But there was no way for him to tell anyone else exactly how much he hated Aglionby Academy.
Any unit of measurement would have to include both the volume and the weight of the hate. And it would also have to include a component of time. The days logged in class, wasted, useless, learning skills for a life he didn’t want. No single word existed, probably, to contain the concept. All, perhaps. He had all the hate for Aglionby Academy.