“WESLEY AYERS is the stranger in the halls of the Coronado. He is the Keeper in the garden who shares my secret. He is the boy who reads me books. He is the one who teaches me how to touch.” — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“Wesley's touch lingers on my skin. His music echoes through my head. I remind myself as I scrub my skin that we are both liars and con artists. That we will always have secrets, some that bind us and some… — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“Perhaps it is in our best interest to... to surrender rather than waste words.” — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“The dead are silent, and objects, when they hold impressions, are quiet until you reach through them. But the touch of living is loud.… — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“Having something and losing it, it's so much crueler than never having had it.” — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“People are made up of so many small details. Some—like the smell of cookies baking—we can recreate. Or at least try.” — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“I suppose it doesn't matter how they get out. All that matters is they do. And when they do, they must be found. They… — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“The silliest things shatter you. A T-shirt discovered behind the washing machine. A toy that rolled under a cabinet in the garage, forgotten until… — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“What a mess. Truths are messy and lies are messy, and I don’t care what Da said, it’s impossible to cut a person into… — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“Let them think you a demon or a god,” she said. “Let them fear you. It does not matter.” “It matters a great deal… — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“What do schools do that for?” he grumbles. “What’s the point of summer if they give you homework?” “Exactly!” — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
“I am broken the way most writers are, stories leaking through the cracks.” — Victoria Schwab Copy Share Image
