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Calla readjusted, wrapping the silk around her other thigh instead. Which one's he again? The pretty one? Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue's look said, I'm so, so sorry. Gansey's said, Am I the pretty one?
Maggie Stiefvater
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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 43
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Around
Exchanged
Look
Wrapping
Looks
Thighs
Silk
Sorry
Blue
Callas
Instead
Thigh
Pretty
Gansey
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Sam reached his hand toward mine and I automatically put my fingers in his.
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we're watchers of this world aren't we? not players
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We sat like that for a long while, and when we stood up, all my sad things were in boxes, and Beck was my father.
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that's because it's from the night, and the night keeps secrets
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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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What are you wishing for?' Grace interrupted. 'To kiss you,' I said to her.
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We don't have time to be sad
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You could write a book about things that you can't find on-line.
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When did you get so smart? He tapped his forehead. Brain transplant. They put in a whale's. I'm passing all my classes with my eyes closed now, but I just can't get over this craving for krill. He shrugged. And I feel sorry for the whale that got my brain. Probably swimming around Florida now trying to catch glimpses of girls in bikinis.
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You'll have to go commando. Is there any other way?
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The trees called to me, urging me to abandon what I knew and vanish into the oncoming night. It was a desire that had been tugging me with disconcerting frequency these days.
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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 do all of my good thinking at over 65 miles per hour. The speed limit is, luckily, the same speed as my brainstorming speed.
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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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I try to think of something catchy to say, but there's nothing but irritation that something that was funny yo an eleven-year-old boy is still funny to a seventeen-year-old one.
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I remember [in teenage years] thinking there were a lot of check boxes out there to sort teens into appropriate molds, and they didn't seem to make check boxes for whatever it was that I had grown up into. I definitely explore that a lot in my novels.
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It was exactly what I wanted-beautiful distraction.
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This is a love story. I never knew there were so many kinds of love or that love could make people do so many different things. I never knew there were so many different ways to say goodbye.
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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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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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