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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.

Maggie Stiefvater

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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 43
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Every
Breath
Breaths
Third
Thirds
Exploded
Step
Suck
Cold
Rush
Steps
Ran
Another
Breathing

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There was something striking about her posture something about the tilt to her head. She was like a beautiful and lonely piece of art, lovely but unreachable.
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One happy day for every falling leaf you catch. Sam's voice was low.
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It's very ugly' I said generously. 'But it looks as though it would laugh at snow. And, if you hit a deer it would hiccup, and keep going.
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I focus on the elements of a movie that are meant to invisibly affect me as a viewer. The edges. As an author, Im aware of how the subconscious things can pluck at a readers emotions, and I love it when filmmakers do the same.
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Sam reached his hand toward mine and I automatically put my fingers in his.
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Hello, Grace's parents. I'm Grace's boyfriend. Please notice the chaste distance between us. I am very responsible and have never had my tongue in your daughter's mouth.
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In the middle of all this, as Sean slips out of his jacket, he looks over his shoulder at me and he smiles at me, just a glancing, faint thing before he turns back to Tommy. I'm quite happy for that smile, because Dad told me once you should be grateful for the gifts that are the rarest.
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How long? His smile was amazingly sweet. The longest. For ever? Sam's lips smiled, but above his grin, his yellow eyes turned sad, as if he knew it was a lie. Longer.
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The guitar, I said, will only obey its master. Yeah, Cole agreed, but Grace isn't here. He grinned at me slyly.
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I folded myself against her body, breathing in the smell of my new life and matching my heartbeat to hers Sam, Linger
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I like you better this way. For some reason, admitting this made her face go hot right away she was very glad that he still had his face pressed into his pillow and the other boys were still in Noah's room. Crushed and broken, Gansey said. Just the way women like 'em.
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I do all of my good thinking at over 65 miles per hour. The speed limit is, luckily, the same speed as my brainstorming speed.
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I couldn't think of anything to say. I was idiotically entranced by the way he said Grace. The tone of it. The way his lips formed the vowels. The timbre of his voice stuck in my head like music.
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Overhead, the stars were wheeling and infinite, a complicated mobile made by giants.
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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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I could live inside a G major chord, with Grace, if she was willing.
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She breathed. This is lovely. It was for Adam, not Gansey, but she saw Gansey glance over his shoulder at her.
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The way Gansey saw it was this: if you had a special knack for finding things, it meant you owed the world to look.
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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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