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Sam looked at me, yellow eyes catching and holding me. I miss being me. I miss you. All the time.
Maggie Stiefvater
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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Time
Catching
Yellow
Holding
Miss
Looked
Missing
Eyes
Eye
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Maura had decided sometime before Blue's birth that it was barbaric to order children about, and so Blue had grown up surrounded by imperative question marks.
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I walk through the seasons and always the birds are singing and screaming and keening for love When you're with me it seems so absurd that I should be jealous of the jay and the dove.
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In his head, his mother said, 'People shout when they don’t have the vocabulary to whisper'.
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Did no one tell him that pain lives in this sand, dug in and watered with our blood?
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I felt a tickle on my skin it took me a moment to realize that Cole was driving his die-cast Mustang up my arm. He was laughing to himself, hushed and infectious, as if there was still any reason to be quite.
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The fact was, I didn't know if I was built for happy endings.
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Most people had an acquired kind of beauty, they became better looking the longer you knew them and the better you loved them, but Cole had unfairly skipped to the end of the game, all jaggedly handsome and Hollywood-looking. Not needing any love to get there.
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In the end, you have to write like you're not afraid of the critics.
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Again and Again, however, we know the language of love, and the little churchyard with its lamenting names and the staggeringly secret abyss in which others find their end: again and again the two of us go out under the ancient trees, make our bed again and again between the flowers, face to face with the skies
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I’d always thought I was above being fascinated by anyone but myself.
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whoopdie-friggin-doo, fooled you!
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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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Don't panic. Are you sitting? You probably don't need to sit. Well, possibly. At least lean on something.
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Get some money, buy a red coffeepot, move out. Find a new place to plug it in.
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Oh my God. What in—” I was going to be killed by two generations of beautiful women. While naked. “Mom,” Isabel snapped, interrupting. “Do you mind not staring? It’s totally perv.
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