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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: 43
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Holding
Miss
Looked
Missing
Eyes
Eye
Time
Catching
Yellow

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I tired the back door -- unlocked. Truley the Man Upstairs was smiling down on me.
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Boys like him didn't die they got bronzed and installed outside public libraries.
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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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You're beautiful and sad, I said finally, not looking at him when I did. Just like your eyes. You're like a song that I heard when I was a little kid but forgot I knew until I heard it again. For a long moment there was only the whirring sound of the tires on the road, and then Sam said softly, Thank you.
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His eyes were frighteningly alive, the curve of his mouth savage and pleased. It suddenly didn't seem at all surprising that he should be able to pull things from his dreams. In that moment, Blue was a little in love with all of them. Their magic. Their quest. Their awfulness and strangeness. Her raven boys.
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here we were again , always saying good-bye
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Once upon a time I would’ve leaped at the rare opportunity of curling up with Mom on the couch. But now it sort of felt like too little too late. I had someone else waiting for me.
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My chest ached, my body speaking a language my head didn't quite understand. I waited. But Grace, the only person in the world I wanted to know me, just ran a wanting finger over the cover of one of the new hardcovers and walked out of the store without ever realising I was there, right within reach.
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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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Gansey had no idea how old Blue was. He knew she'd just finished eleventh grade. Maybe she was sixteen. Maybe she was eighteen. Maybe she was twenty-two and just very short and remedial.
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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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In his head, his mother said, 'People shout when they don’t have the vocabulary to whisper'.
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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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Somewhere fate laughs in her far-off country, because now I am the human and it is Grace I will lose again and again, immer wieder, always the same, every winter, losing more of her each year, unless I find a cure.
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Is this thing safe? Safe as life, Gansey replied.
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She attempted to turn again I held on. I wasn't holding tight enough to keep her, but she wasn't pulling hard enough to get away.
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There was no sun there was no light. I was dying. I couldn't remember what the sky looked like. But I didn't die. I was lost to a sea of cold, and then I was reborn into a world of warmth.
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Books are more real when you read them outside.
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Flickering lights anonymous doors my heart escaping in drips i'm still waking up but she's still sleeping this ICU is hotel for the dead
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There's no such thing as a good book or a bad book. There's a book that matters to a reader.
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