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and i was right here , almost right within reach , but still one thousand mile away

Maggie Stiefvater

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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Away
Stills
Still
Mile
Right
Miles
Reach
Thousand
Almost
Within

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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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She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness. It was the way she felt when she looked at the stars.
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I fell asleep to the scent of my wolf. Pine needles, cold rain, earthy perfume, coarse bristles on my face.
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Silence was never a wrong answer.
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Did you know you get one happy day for every one you catch?... One happy day for every falling leaf you catch -sam
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when we're married, can we go to the ocean? I've never been
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Did you just tell that man you went potty on yourself? You. Shut. Up,I hissed back furiously and chucked the scrubs at his head. Hurry up before they find out I didn't wet myself. You seriously owe me.
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Ronan kept staring at Whelk. He was good at staring. There was something about his stare that took something from the other person.
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Sometimes, your eyes see something your brain doesn't. You pick up a nmewspaper and yourhead gives you a phrase that you didn't consciously read yet. You walk into a room and you realize something's out of place before you've bothered to properly look. I felt that happening now. Sam's thoughts on page 304 of Linger.
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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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But by blood, no wolf am I
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You're getting your weird all over me.
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I think that whenever a book is not a challenge, I'm telling the wrong story.
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The trees called to me, urging me to abandon what I knew and vanish into the oncoming night. It was a desire that had been tugging me with disconcerting frequency these days.
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Now, I was a fan of the simple pleasures in life: grilled cheese sandwiches without black flecks on the crust, jeans that didn't pinch the better parts of me, an inch of vodka, ten to twelve hours of sleep. - Cole St Clair, Forever.
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I tired the back door -- unlocked. Truley the Man Upstairs was smiling down on me.
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More than anything, the journal wanted. It wanted more than it could hold, more than words could describe, more than diagrams could illustrate. Longing burst from the pages, in every frantic line and every hectic sketch and every dark-printed definition. There was something pained and melancholy about it.
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I'm an equation that only she solves, these X's and Y's by other names called. My way of dividing is desperately flawed as I multiply the days without her - Page 165
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There was something awful about terror trapped behind silence. About latent emotions that couldn't be acted out. Cole's thoughts on page 248 of Linger.
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I'd learned a long time ago that one of the finest weapons in my arsenal was my ability to invade personal space
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