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I am standing here in the shed, and I'm waiting to see if my seeds are going to poke out ofthe dirt. I don't know if it's too early to look for signs of life or if, this time, winter has claimed my family for good.

Maggie Stiefvater

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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 43
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Time
Early
Ofthe
Life
Standing
Poke
Waiting
Claimed
Family
Signs
Look
Dirt
Looks
Shed
Going
Seeds
Good
Winter

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Death smells like birthday cake.
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You'll have to go commando. Is there any other way?
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I could still smell her on my fur. It clung to me, a memory of another world. I was drunk with it, with the scent of her. I'd got too close. The smell of summer on her skin, the half-recalled cadence of her voice, the sensation of her fingers on my fur. Every bit of me sang with the memory of her closeness. Too close. I couldn't stay away.
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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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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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If the waitress comes, order me a coffee and something that involves bacon.
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Overhead, the stars were wheeling and infinite, a complicated mobile made by giants.
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The entire room was so yellow that it looked like the sun had thrown up on the walls and wiped its mouth afterward on the dresser and curtains. ---Cole
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Okay, outside, the clerk said. Conversation outside. Bye! Have a nice night!
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Crashing into the trembling void Stretching my hand to you Losing myself to frigid regret Is this fragile love A way To say Good-bye
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Sam did smile then, and said softly, Hey Angel.
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Silence was never a wrong answer.
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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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But by blood, no wolf am I
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I sat on the hill, the wind whispering through the long grass that surrounded me. I stared at the stars and wanted more than what I was and more than what the world was and just - wanted.
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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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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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We don't have time to be sad
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When you traffic in monsters, that's the risk you run, that you'll find one too monstrous to stomach.
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I'm quite happy for that smile, because Dad told me once you should be grateful for the gifts that are the rarest.
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