Quote

Sorry for hurting you, she said right in my ear, but it wasn't really an apology, because you don't bite someone's earlobe to tell them you're sorry.

Maggie Stiefvater

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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 43
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Someone
Bite
Right
Apology
Really
Bites
Sorry
Ears
Wasn
Hurt
Tell
Hurting

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I tired the back door -- unlocked. Truley the Man Upstairs was smiling down on me.
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Is this thing safe? Safe as life, Gansey replied.
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One happy day for every falling leaf you catch. Sam's voice was low.
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I started down but Sam caught my arm and knelt down himself to look. For crying out loud, he said. It's a racoon. Poor thing, I said. It could be a rabid baby-killer, Cole told me primly. Shut up, Sam said pleasantly.
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I grew up with boys of all kinds - I have two brothers, and I was in a bagpipe band for several years.
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She wore a dress Ronan thought looked like a lampshade. Whatever sort of lamp it belonged on, Gansey clearly wished he had one. Ronan wasn't a fan of lamps.
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Can I ask you a question? You already have. He paused, considering. Can I ask you two questions, then? You already have.
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You want to talk? Fine. Talk. Tell me something you've never told anybody else.' I thought for a moment. 'Turtles have the second-largest brains of any animal on the planet.' It took Isabel only a second to process this. 'No, they don't.' 'I know that's why I've never told anybody that before.
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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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I fell asleep to the scent of my wolf. Pine needles, cold rain, earthy perfume, coarse bristles on my face.
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here we were again , always saying good-bye
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This object that we hold in our hands, a book... that tactile pleasure, it's just not going to go away.
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I hear laughter and someone asks if I need help, not in a nice way. I snarl, What I need is for your mother to have thought a little harder nine months before your birthday.
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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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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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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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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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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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You're not going to die, I told her, lifting my head to look at her. I'm not done writing songs about you yet.
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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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