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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.

Maggie Stiefvater

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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Night
Wait
Change
Haven
Back
Bring
Every
Knew
Long
Hurt
Would
Happen
Bitten
Getting
Waited
Keep
Stopped

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It occurred to me that there was a story behind the scar -- maybe not as dramatic as the story of my wrists, but a story nonetheless -- and the fact that everyone had a story behind some mark on their inside or outside suddenly exhausted me, the gravity of all those untold pasts.
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Adam wasn't certain what came first with Blue--her treating the boys as friends, or them all becoming friends. It seemed to Adam that this circular way to build relationships required a healthy amount of self-confidence to undertake. And it was a strange sort of magic that it felt like she'd always been hunting for Glendower with them.
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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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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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It was a sort of ferocious, quiet beauty, the sort that wouldn't let you admire it. The sort of beauty that always hurt.
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I’d always thought I was above being fascinated by anyone but myself.
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There was no other sound in the world like a car crash.
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Imagine my delight and awe when I discovered such a thing was a real genre - contemporary fantasy or urban fantasy. It was like having my birthday twice in one week and cookie dough for breakfast.
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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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Maura whirled towards Blue. Blue, if you ever see that man again, you just walk the other way. No, Calla corrected. Kick him in the nuts. Then run the other way.
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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 slithered out of the sinkhole on my stomach. It was not the sexiest move I'd ever performed, but I was impressed nonetheless.
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Not all. Some of them he probably lectured to death.
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There is a little narrowing to his eyes at the end of it that makes me understand that this is a test. Whether or not I'm brave enough to go into the stall with Corr after yesterday morning, after I've had time to think about what happened. The thought of it makes my pulse trip. The question is not if I trust Corr. The question is if I trust Sean.
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You're getting your weird all over me.
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I am not a huge fan of the one-sided pining romances where the guy is a perfect love-object because we don't see inside his head.
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hey Lynch I didn't leave that car for it to sit while you just blow III
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Do you know how some people can do anything?” “What do you mean?” “I mean, you tell them to write a tune, they give you a symphony right there. You tell them to write a book, they write you a novel in a day. You tell them to move a spoon without touching it, they move it. If they want something, they make it happen. Miracles, almost.
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I have a certain avoidance of reality that makes fantasy an ideal choice for me.
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