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It was nothing, but it was Adam Parrish's nothing. How he hated and loved it. How proud he was of it, how wretched it was.

Maggie Stiefvater

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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Wretched
Adam
Hated
Proud
Loved
Nothing

More quotes by Maggie Stiefvater

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I slithered out of the sinkhole on my stomach. It was not the sexiest move I'd ever performed, but I was impressed nonetheless.
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Happiness isn't something this island yields easily the ground is too rocky and the sun too sparse for it to flourish.
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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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I can't really believe that it's over. I'll speak for her. Every face turns to where Sean Kendrick stands a little apart from the crowd, his arms crossed. This island runs on courage, not blood, he says. His face is turned towards me, but his eyes are on Eaton and his groups. In the hush after he speaks, I can hear my heart thudding in my
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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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I fell asleep to the scent of my wolf. Pine needles, cold rain, earthy perfume, coarse bristles on my face.
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Boys like him didn't die they got bronzed and installed outside public libraries.
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I felt a tickle on my skin it took me a moment to realize that Cole was driving his die-cast Mustang up my arm. He was laughing to himself, hushed and infectious, as if there was still any reason to be quite.
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The walls of the arch are covered with blood-red jellies that wink and glisten at me by the light of the moon. My father told me they were completely harmless. I don't believe him. Nothing is completely harmless.
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Did no one tell him that pain lives in this sand, dug in and watered with our blood?
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Grace reached over and began stroking her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and let her drive me crazy.
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The dog pranced delightedly around his feet as if he'd been gone to another planet instead of merely underneath a car.
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He strode over to the ruined church. This, Blue had discovered, was how Gansey got places - striding. Walking was for ordinary people.
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Imagine my delight and awe when I discovered such a thing was a real genre - contemporary fantasy or urban fantasy. It was like having my birthday twice in one week and cookie dough for breakfast.
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I wish you could be kissed, Jane,' he said. 'Because I would beg just one off you. Under all this.' He flailed an arm toward the stars.
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Some days seem to fit together like a stained glass window. A hundred little pieces of different color and mood that, when combined, create a complete picture.
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His eyes were frighteningly alive, the curve of his mouth savage and pleased. It suddenly didn't seem at all surprising that he should be able to pull things from his dreams. In that moment, Blue was a little in love with all of them. Their magic. Their quest. Their awfulness and strangeness. Her raven boys.
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I want you. Feeling the grip of his hand in mine, the brush of skin on mine, seeing the way he moved in front of me, equal parts human and wolf, and remembering his smell - I ached with wanting to kiss him.
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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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- Tears don't become us. - What becomes us? - Action.
Maggie Stiefvater