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Is that all? she whispered. Gansey closed his eyes. That's all there is.

Maggie Stiefvater

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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Gansey
Whispered
Closed
Eyes
Eye

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And Ronan was everything that was left: molten eyes and a smile made for war.
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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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And then I opened my eyes and it was just Grace and me - nothing anywhere but Grace and me - she pressing her lips together as though she were keeping my kiss inside her, and me, holding this moment that was as fragile as a bird in my hands.
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Sam reached his hand toward mine and I automatically put my fingers in his.
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Ronan's smile was sharp and hooked as one of the creature's claws. 'A sword is never a killer it is a tool in the killer's hand'. I can't believe Noah didn't stick around to help. Sure you can. Never trust the dead.
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I have a certain avoidance of reality that makes fantasy an ideal choice for me.
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When does it happen? It already has, Calla replied. Her eyes opened and fixed on Blue. And it hasn't yet. Time' circular, chicken. We use the same parts of it over and over. Some of us more than others.
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I folded myself against her body, breathing in the smell of my new life and matching my heartbeat to hers Sam, Linger
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You're getting your weird all over me.
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In the end, you have to write like you're not afraid of the critics.
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Hello, lovely. You're as pretty as pretty today.
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It (suicide) became a possibility like Maybe when I grow up, I will be dead. Life was a cake that looked good on the bakery shelf but turned to sawdust and salt when I ate it.
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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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She kissed me harder, breath huffing into my mouth, and bit my lip. Oh, hell that was amazing. I growled before I could stop myself.
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My good mood felt like an endangered species.
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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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- Tears don't become us. - What becomes us? - Action.
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I guess I make things that need energy stronger. I'm like a walking battery.
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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.
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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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