Citas de The Raven Boys
My words are unerring tools of
destruction, and I’ve come unequipped with the ability to disarm them.
Gansey had once told Adam that he was afraid most people didn't know how to handle Ronan. What he meant by this was that he was worried that one day someone would fall on Ronan and cut themselves.
We have to be back in three hours," Ronan said. "I just fed Chainsaw but she'll need it again."
"This," Gansey replied "is precisely why I didn't want to have a baby with you.
You are being self-pitying."
"I'm nearly done. You don't have much more of this to bear."
"I like you better this way."
"Crushed and broken," Gansey said. "Just the way women like 'em.
Fate," Blue replied, glowering at her mother, "is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfast.
I guess I make things that need energy stronger. I'm like a walking battery."
"You're the table everyone wants at Starbucks," Gansey mused as he began to walk again.
Blue blinked. "What?"
Over his shoulder, Gansey said, "Next to the wall plug.
Gansey's partying with his mother," Ronan said. He smelled like beer. "And Noah's fucking dead. But Parrish is here.
How do you feel about helicopters?"
There was a long pause. "How do you mean? Ethically?"
"As a mode of transportation."
"Faster than camels, but less sustainable.
He strode over to the ruined church. This, Blue had discovered, was how Gansey got places - striding. Walking was for ordinary people.
I think they're here because I thought they ought to be here," Gansey said.
Blue replied sarcastically. "Okay, God.
Being Adam Parrish was a complicated thing, a wonder of muscles and organs, synapses and nerves. He was a miracle of moving parts, a study in survival. The most important thing to Adam Parrish, though, had always been free will, the ability to be his own master.
This was the important thing.
It had always been the important thing.
This was what it was to be Adam.
Are you really going to work in that?" Maura asked.
Blue looked at her clothing. It involved a few thin layering shirts, including one she had altered using a method called shredding. "What's wrong with it?"
Maura shrugged. "Nothing. I always wanted an eccentric daughter. I just never realised how well my evil plans were working.
In the end, he was nobody to Adam, he was nobody to Ronan. Adam spit his words back at him and Ronan squandered however many second chances he gave him. Gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year.
I found it."
"People find pennies," Gansey replied. "Or car keys. Or four-leaf clovers."
"And ravens," Ronan said. "You're just jealous 'cause" - at this point, he had to stop to regroup his beer-sluggish thoughts - "you didn't find one, too.
Don't panic. Are you sitting? You probably don't need to sit. Well, possibly. At least lean on something.
I never taught him to break his thumb."
"That's Gansey for you. Only learns enough to be superficially competent."
"Loser," Ronan agreed, and he was himself again.
Aglionby Academy was the number one reason Blue had developed her two rules: One, stay away from boys because they were trouble. And two, stay away from Aglionby boys, because they were bastards.
It's a hard thing to hold a civil conversation after recalling that one party has used a Taser on the other, so both of them finished the walk in silence.
Maura had decided sometime before Blue's birth that it was barbaric to order children about, and so Blue had grown up surrounded by imperative question marks.
Her name's Chainsaw," replied Ronan, without looking up. Then: "Noah. You're creepy as hell back there.
More than anything, the journal wanted. It wanted more than it could hold, more than words could describe, more than diagrams could illustrate. Longing burst from the pages, in every frantic line and every hectic sketch and every dark-printed definition. There was something pained and melancholy about it.
Saw him where?"
"While I was sitting outside with one of my half aunts."
This seemed to satisfy Ronan was well, because he asked, "What's the other half of her?"
"God, Ronan," Adam said. "Enough.
I like you better this way." For some reason, admitting this made her face go hot right away; she was very glad that he still had his face pressed into his pillow and the other boys were still in Noah's room. "Crushed and broken," Gansey said. "Just the way women like 'em.
He's a pit bull," Adam said.
"I know some really nice pit bulls."
"He's the kind of pit that makes the evening news. Gansey's trying to restrain him."
"How noble.
Blue was a fanciful, but sensible thing. Like a platypus, or one of those sandwiches that had been cut into circles for a fancy tea party.
The fact was, by the time she got to high school, being weird and proud of it was an asset. Suddenly cool, Blue could've happily had any number of friends. And she had tried. But the problem with being weird was that everyone else was 'normal'".
Listen to you sounding all badass. I bet you're just listening to a CD called 'The Sounds of Crime' while you cruise for chicks outside the Old Navy in your Camaro.
As always, there was an all-American war hero look to him, coded in his tousled brown hair, his summer-narrowed hazel eyes, the straight nose that ancient Anglo-Saxons had graciously passed on to him. Everything about him suggested valor and power and a firm handshake.
The journal and Gansey were clearly long acquainted, and he wanted her to know. This is me. The real me.
The king sleeps still, under a mountain, and around him is assembled
his warriors and his herds and his riches. By his right hand is his cup,
filled with possibility. On his breast nestles his sword, waiting, too, to wake.
Fortunate is the soul who finds the king and is brave enough to call him to wakefulness, for the king will grant him a favour, as wondrous as can be imagined by a mortal man.
At one store, Gansey had started to pay for Blue's potato chips and she'd snatched them away. "I don't want you to buy me food!" Blue said. "If you pay for it, then it's like I'm... be---be---" "Beholden to me?" Gansey suggested pleasantly. "Don't put words into my mouth." "It was your word." "You assumed it was my word. You can't just go around assuming." "But that is what you meant, isn't it?" She scowled. "I'm done with this conversation.
It's like scrying into that weird space. There's so much coming out of him, it shouldn't be possible. Do you remember that woman who came in who was pregnant with quadruplets? It was like that, but worse."
"He's pregnant?" Blue asked.
Oh! Your hand is cold." Ashley cupped her fingers against her shirt to warm them.
"I've been dead for seven years," Noah said. "That's as warm as they get.
But what [Gansey] said was, "I'm going to need everyone to be straight with each other from now on. No more games. This isn't just for Blue, either. All of us."
Ronan said, "I'm always straight."
Adam replied, "Oh, man, that's the biggest lie you've ever told."
Blue said, "Okay.
I have to walk dogs." "Oh," Gansey replied, sounding deflated. "Well, okay." "But it'll only take an hour." "Oh," he repeated, about fourteen shades brighter. "Shall I pick you up, then?.
There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark's Eve," Neeve said. "Either you're his true love ... or you killed him.
The best-case scenario here is that you make friends with a boy who's going to die."
"Ah," said Calla, in a very, very knowing way. "Now I see."
"Don't psychoanalyse me," her mother said.
"I already have. And I say again, 'ah'.
She asked, "Okay, wait, so why is Ronan at the library?"
"Cramming," Noah said. "For an exam on Monday."
It was the nicest thing Blue had ever heard of Ronan doing.
Gansey had always felt as if there were two of him: the Gansey who was in control, able to handle any situation, able to talk to anyone, and then, the other, more fragile Gansey, strung out and unsure, embarrassingly earnest, driven by naive longing.
He couldn’t stand it, all of this inside him. In the end, he was nobody to Adam, he was nobody to Ronan. Adam spit his words back at him and Ronan squandered however many second chances he gave him. Gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year. They were always walking away from him. But he never seemed able to walk away from them.
He smiled tolerantly at her. Rubbing his smooth chin its recently assassinated chin hairs, he studied her. She barely came up to Ronan's shoulder, but she was every bit as big as he, every bit as present.
Ronan kept staring at Whelk. He was good at staring. There was something about his stare that took something from the other person.
Gansey could’ve had any and all of the friends that he wanted. Instead he had chosen the three of them, three guys who should’ve, for three different reasons, been friendless.
Adam wasn't certain what came first with Blue--her treating the boys as friends, or them all becoming friends. It seemed to Adam that this circular way to build relationships required a healthy amount of self-confidence to undertake. And it was a strange sort of magic that it felt like she'd always been hunting for Glendower with them.