But despite his odd appearance Eliot had an air of effortless self possession that made Quentin urgently want to be is friend, or maybe just be him period. He was obviously one of those people who felt at home in the world- he was naturally buoyant, where Quentin felt like he had to doggy paddle constantly, exhaustingly, humiliatingly, just to get one sip of air.
Lev Grossman, The magicians.
(I love this book so much and I’ve not even halfway through. It resonates with me. There’s something incredibly realistic about the characters and their emotions despite the fantasty plot.)