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His was the disease we couldn’t cure. His was the good-bye that meant the most

Maggie Stiefvater

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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Good
Bye
Cure
Cures
Meant
Disease
Couldn

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I considered calling Grace to ask her what I should say to a reticent suicidal werewolf, but I'd left my phone somewhere. Car, maybe.
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When Gansey was polite, it made him powerful. When Adam was polite, he was giving power away.
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Some people see what they want to see.
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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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Knowing what I was, and wanting me, anyway.
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I can't tell the difference, I said. Between not fighting and giving up.
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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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I would like to say that I was inspired to write 'Shiver' by some overwhelming belief in true love, but here's my true confession: I wrote 'Shiver' because I like to make people cry.
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Peppermint swirled into my nostrils, sharp as glass, then raspberry almost to sweet, like too-ripe fruit. Apple, crisp and pure. Nuts, buttery, warm, earthy
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I feel like I have so many stories basting in my mind, and they come busting out when they're ready.
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We don't have time to be sad
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I'm not done writing songs about you yet.
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Cole made a hissing sound. Are you inside yet? God bless America and all her sons. What is taking you so long? The front door was locked. Here, talk to Grace Mommy isn't going to give a different answer than Daddy, Cole said, but I handed her the phone anyway.
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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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She screamed, the high scream that was neither human nor animal but something terrible in between, the sort of sound that you never forget no matter how many beautiful things you hear afterward.
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She wasn't interested in telling other people's futures. She was interested in going out and finding her own.
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I was suddenly struck by how dissimilar we were. It occurred to me that if Grace and I were objects, she would be an elaborate digital clock, synced up with the World Clock in London with technical perfection, and I’d be a snow globe – shaken memories in a glass ball.
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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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Are you high? Why are you never wearing a shirt? I sleep naked, Cole said. He put both milk and sugar in my coffee. As the day goes on, I put on more and more clothing. You should've come over an hour ago.
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I'm having a psychic moment. It involves you and me. Distracted, Gansey glanced up from the computer screen. Were you talking to me or Ronan? Either. I'm flexible. Blue made a small, terrible noise. I would appreciate if you'd turn your inner eye towards the water.
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