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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
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Wanted
Last
Minute
Years
Perfect
Hour
Moment
Couldn
Tell
Minutes
Moments
Wasn
Night
Year
Another
Hours
Ends
Lasts
Pretending
More quotes by Maggie Stiefvater
I try to think of something catchy to say, but there's nothing but irritation that something that was funny yo an eleven-year-old boy is still funny to a seventeen-year-old one.
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My parents had always been so careful with me, until the day they decided I needed to die.
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It was exactly what I wanted-beautiful distraction.
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Cole sat back up, slowly, and I opened my eyes. His expression, as ever, was blank, the face he wore when something mattered. He said, That's how I would kiss you, if I loved you.
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After you were bitten, i knew what would happen. I waited for you to change, every night, so i could bring you back and keep you from getting hurt. How long did you wait? I haven't stopped.
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Silence was never a wrong answer.
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Rilke says: Verweilung, auch am Verstrautesten nicht, ist uns gegeben - We are not allowed to linger, even with what is most intimate.
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Dying's a boring side effect.
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I grew up with boys of all kinds - I have two brothers, and I was in a bagpipe band for several years.
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I'll cook the water.
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Books are more real when you read them outside.
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Don't cry pretty girl. Who you are is why you're so good at everything. You won't let yourself be otherwise. And thats what fascinates me. Duke- Lament
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Can I ask you a question? You already have. He paused, considering. Can I ask you two questions, then? You already have.
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Hello, lovely. You're as pretty as pretty today.
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All these perfect days, made of glass Put on the shelf where they can cast perfect shadows that stretch and grow on the imperfect days down below. ... perfect shadows that shift and glow... ... perfect shadows that shift and grow... Sam singing on page 256 of Linger.
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The room went dark and, after a moment, Grace whispered that she loved me, sounding a little sad. I wrapped my arms tightly around her shoulders, sorry that loving me was such a complicated thing.
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If the waitress comes, order me a coffee and something that involves bacon.
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I could still smell her on my fur. It clung to me, a memory of another world. I was drunk with it, with the scent of her. I'd got too close. The smell of summer on her skin, the half-recalled cadence of her voice, the sensation of her fingers on my fur. Every bit of me sang with the memory of her closeness. Too close. I couldn't stay away.
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...the sound of our lack of conversation amplified by the echo of our footsteps on the stone around us.
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We don't have time to be sad
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