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Grace reached over and began stroking her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and let her drive me crazy.

Maggie Stiefvater

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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 43
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Crazy
Stroking
Eyes
Closed
Eye
Reached
Began
Drive
Fingers
Hair
Grace

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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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Don't give me that look. I'm not trying to find out who you are. I don't care who you are. I just want to know why it is you are the way you are.
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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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You're the nicest boy ever,, I told him, feeling undeserving and terrible. You didn't have to get me anything. I like thinking about you thinking about me when I'm not around.
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I wasn’t sure which of us was being more selfish—her, for wanting something that no one could promise, or me, for not promising her something that was too painfully impossible to want.
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I guess I make things that need energy stronger. I'm like a walking battery.
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Overhead, the stars were wheeling and infinite, a complicated mobile made by giants.
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Sam: For once in my life, I was here and nowhere else.
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I always listen to you. Except when I don't.
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Fate, Blue replied, glowering at her mother, is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfast.
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The journal and Gansey were clearly long acquainted, and he wanted her to know. This is me. The real me.
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You really didn't see the sadness or the longing unless you already knew it was there. But that was the trick, wasn't it? Everyone had their disappointment and their baggage only, some people carried it in their inside pockets and not on their backs.
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Some people see what they want to see.
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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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How do you get 'feng shui' out of 'thoughtful'?
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Clutter is my natural habitat.
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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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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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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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The boy had my wolf's eyes.
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