His home was populated by things and creatures from Niall Lynch's dreams, and his mother was just another one of them

Ronan Lynch lived with every sort of secret.

The inside of the old Camaro smelled like asphalt and desire, gasoline and dreams.

It was a sort of ferocious, quiet beauty, the sort that wouldn't let you admire it. The sort of beauty that always hurt.

Reality's what other people dream for you.

I wish you could be kissed, Jane, ' he said. 'Because I would beg just one off you. Under all this.' He flailed an arm toward the stars.

Ronan's second secret was Adam Parrish.

At this, Gansey rolled over onto his back and folded his hands on his chest. He wore a salmon polo shirt, which, in Blue’s opinion, was far more hellish than anything they’d discussed to this point.

The Gray Man hated his current rental car. He got the distinct impression it hadn't been handled enough by humans when it was young, and now it would never be pleasant to be around.

Do you eat all of the men in the family? Where do they go? Does this house have a basement?

So many of the world's problems, he mused, were solved by sheer human decency.

That's what fiction is for. It's for getting at the truth when the truth isn't sufficient for the truth.

Strong nations are built on SOLID HOMES not big houses

I have the feeling when I write poetry that I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. You don't think about whether you're going to get money or fame you just do it.

Not only does he have the NFC East record for touchdowns, but also the team record.

I don't think massification and globalization and all those other 'izations' are necessarily hostile to regionalism.

There is no pleasure subtler than the sensation of being a good workman; and in work there is the sense of consanguinity-unconscious as a rule but sometimes conscious.

Singing has nothing to do with the affairs of this world: it is not for the law. Singers are merry, and free from sorrows and cares.

So we find that the three possible solutions of the great problem of increasing human energy are answered by the three words: food, peace, work.

I want to unfold. I don’t want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie.

The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: At one stride comes the dark; With far-heard whisper o'er the sea, Off shot the spectre-bark.