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It was the perfect moment to tell her. This is my last year. But I couldn’t say it. Not yet. I wanted another minute, another hour, another night of pretending this wasn’t the end.
Maggie Stiefvater
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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
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Harrisonburg
Virginia
Moments
Wasn
Night
Year
Another
Hours
Ends
Lasts
Pretending
Wanted
Last
Minute
Years
Perfect
Hour
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Couldn
Tell
Minutes
More quotes by Maggie Stiefvater
When you traffic in monsters, that's the risk you run, that you'll find one too monstrous to stomach.
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I just looked at her, feeling utterly empty. I didn't know what I was supposed to say to her. My life is in that bed. Please let me stay.
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It was nothing, but it was Adam Parrish's nothing. How he hated and loved it. How proud he was of it, how wretched it was.
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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'.
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Face flushed, I shook my head and stared at my white-knuckled grip on the bed. Of all my pet peeves, condescending adults were probably at the top of the list.
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Hello, lovely. You're as pretty as pretty today.
Maggie Stiefvater
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.
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I think that whenever a book is not a challenge, I'm telling the wrong story.
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Clutter is my natural habitat.
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Where do you live? Adam's mouth was very set. A place made for leaving That's not really an answer. It's not really a place.
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Grace: I picked up my sweater from the floor and crawled back into bed. Shoving my pillow aside, I balled up the sweater to use instead. I fell asleep to the scent of my wolf. Pine needles, cold rain, earthy perfume, coarse bristles on my face. It was almost like he was there.
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Eventually, the Gray Man thought, if he resisted using it for long enough, he himself might forget his own name, and became someone else entirely.
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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.
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Calla readjusted, wrapping the silk around her other thigh instead. Which one's he again? The pretty one? Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue's look said, I'm so, so sorry. Gansey's said, Am I the pretty one?
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I always listen to you. Except when I don't.
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I wasn’t sure what expression I was expecting her to wear when she saw that it was me. I’d braced myself for disgust or anger. But she just looked at me like I was — nothing. An annoyance, maybe.
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Maura whirled towards Blue. Blue, if you ever see that man again, you just walk the other way. No, Calla corrected. Kick him in the nuts. Then run the other way.
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Sean reaches out between us and takes my wrist. He press his thumb on my pulse. My heartbeat trips and surges against his skin. I'm pinned by his touch, a sort of fearful magic. We stand and stand, and I wait for my pulse against his finger to slow, but it doesn't Finally, he releases my wrist and says, I'll see you on the cliffs tomorrow.
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It's a bomb. Just like you.
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I guess now would be a good time to tell you, He said. I took Chainsaw out of my dreams.
Maggie Stiefvater
