1
" When she opened her eyes, she was both in her body and watching it, nowhere near the cavity of the tree. The Blue that was before her stood inches from a boy in an Aglionby sweater. There was a slight stoop to his posture, and his shoulders were spattered darkly with rain. It was his fingers that Blue felt on her face. He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
Tears coursed down the other Blue's face. Though some strange magic, Blue could feel them on her face as well. She could feel, too, sick, rising misery she'd felt in the churchyard, the grief that felt bigger than her. The other Blue's tears seemed endless. One drop slid after another, each following an identical path down her cheeks.
The boy in the Aglionby sweater leaned his forehead against Blue's. She felt the pressure of his skin against hers, and suddenly she could smell mint.
It'll be okay. Gansey told the other Blue. She could tell that he was afraid. It'll be okay.
Impossibly, Blue realized that this other Blue was crying because she loved Gansey. And that the reason Gansey touched her like that, his fingers so careful with her, was because he knew that her kiss could kill him. She could feel how badly the other Blue wanted to kiss him, even as she dreaded it. Though she couldn't understand why, her real, present day memories in the tree cavity were clouded with other false memories of their lips nearly touching, a life this other Blue had already lived.
Okay, I'm ready- Gansey's voice caught, just a little. Blue, kiss me. "
― Maggie Stiefvater , The Raven Boys (The Raven Cycle, #1)
4
" Love, now that was dangerous. It plucks your heart out of your chest cavity and throws it into the skies where all you can do is watch it freefall towards the object of your love, and hope he or she would catch it. And very often your heart would land with a sordid, painful thud on the ground, or worse, a ditch, and lie there forlorn, neglected and pitiful until you found it, picked it up, glued the various parts back together and put it back into your chest where it would continue to beat on, stolidly, with only you knowing that there was a beat missing. A beat audible to no discerning ear, but your own, a slight sense of being out of tune with yourself, a heart that beat reluctantly, for the sake of keeping up appearances, in the forlorn hope that some day it would get back in rhythm, that some day it would have something to beat for. And then, over the years of missing a beat, you would grown irretrievably out of beat with yourself, and end up discordant. "
― Kiran Manral , The Face At the Window
6
" i dreamt i crawled on top of you and kissed your hips, one at a time, my lips a smolder. i straddled your waist and pressed both shaking hands against your torso. spongy, like an old tree on the forest floor. i push and your flesh sinks inwardly, collapsing with decay, a soft shushing sound. a yawning hole where your organs should be. maggots used to live here until your own poison killed them off. i laid my cheek into the loam and three little mushrooms brushed over my eyelid. peat, decomposing matter, all of it, whatever you wish to call it, rested in the cavity of your chest. and there i planted seeds in the hopes something good would come out of you. "
― Taylor Rhodes , calloused: a field journal
12
" Where are we heading?”
“The closest wooded area to here is Kenwood Academy’s estate. Good place to hide, especially at night.”
“If we’re going into the woods, I definitely need to change.”
I glanced back at her as we returned to the curb where the cab had dropped us off. “Or you could just go home.”
She crossed her arms and avoided my gaze, scowling. “You’re sick of me already? That must be a record.”
I lifted my eyes to the heavens. Women. “This creature tore out a woman’s throat and busted her chest cavity open like a piñata. I don’t like the thought of it being anywhere near you.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I feel the same way?”
Surprise flooded over me. “No, it…actually didn’t.”
“I know I’m not as strong or as smart as you are, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. We’re partners, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” I said, and couldn’t stop the smile creeping across my lips. “I guess we are.”
She tossed a quick look at me and frowned. “Quit it.”
“What?”
“I hate it when you do that.”
“You hate it when I smile?”
“No, when you make that, ‘aw, she does have a heart’ face. You look like a Disney prince.”
I laughed. “My bad. I’ll work on that. "
― Kyoko M. , The Deadly Seven (The Black Parade, #1.5)