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I wasn’t sure which of us was being more selfish—her, for wanting something that no one could promise, or me, for not promising her something that was too painfully impossible to want.
Maggie Stiefvater
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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Something
Painfully
Promising
Wanting
Selfish
Promise
Wasn
Impossible
Sure
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I didn't think I belonged here in her world, a boy stuck between two lives, dragging the dangers of the wolves with me, but when she said my name, waiting for me to follow, I knew I'd do anything to stay with her.
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I started down but Sam caught my arm and knelt down himself to look. For crying out loud, he said. It's a racoon. Poor thing, I said. It could be a rabid baby-killer, Cole told me primly. Shut up, Sam said pleasantly.
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I saw myself as an outsider as a teen. I was home-schooled and got my G.E.D. when I was 16 I wasn't interested in high school at all and figured that college might be more entertaining.
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Sorry for hurting you, she said right in my ear, but it wasn't really an apology, because you don't bite someone's earlobe to tell them you're sorry.
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It was a life I didn’t want to leave behind.It was a life I didn’t want to forget.
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Sailing to an island unknown Failing to find your way home you walk under a sea leagues beneath us
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I don't think I'd like to argue with you, I say. I think it would be a very dissatisfying pastime.
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I loved you so much right then Sam Roth.
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When he kissed me, his lips soft and careful, it was all the thrill of our first kiss and all the practiced familiarity of the accumulated memory of all our kisses.
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It seemed like the best weapons in my life had always been the most innocuous: empty plastic bins, a blank CD, an unmarked syringe, my smile in a dark room.
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Every third step I ran, my breath exploded out of me all in a rush. One step to suck in another cold lungful. One step to let it excape. One step of not breathing.
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He was uncomfortable with the idea that use might not like him.
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I don't think I ever believed in love, not really. Just though it was something James Bond made up, a long time ago, to get laid.
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She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness. It was the way she felt when she looked at the stars.
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His was the disease we couldn’t cure. His was the good-bye that meant the most
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is this fragile love/ a way/ to say/ goodbye
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Are you high? Why are you never wearing a shirt? I sleep naked, Cole said. He put both milk and sugar in my coffee. As the day goes on, I put on more and more clothing. You should've come over an hour ago.
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Adam had once told Gansey, Rags to riches isn't a story anyone wants to hear until after it's done.
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