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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.
Maggie Stiefvater
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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Ferocious
Admire
Quiet
Wouldn
Sort
Hurt
Beauty
Always
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I would like to say that I was inspired to write 'Shiver' by some overwhelming belief in true love, but here's my true confession: I wrote 'Shiver' because I like to make people cry.
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I had risked everything, and I had nothing to show for it but my open hand, lying empty and palm up toward the ceiling.
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In the end, you have to write like you're not afraid of the critics.
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His was the disease we couldn’t cure. His was the good-bye that meant the most
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Adam had once told Gansey, Rags to riches isn't a story anyone wants to hear until after it's done.
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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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we're watchers of this world aren't we? not players
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Sam looked at me, yellow eyes catching and holding me. I miss being me. I miss you. All the time.
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Does anyone ask you why you stay, Sean Kendrick? They do. And why do you? The sky and the sand and the sea and Corr.
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The journal and Gansey were clearly long acquainted, and he wanted her to know. This is me. The real me.
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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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There was something unbearably sexy about cars at night, Ronan thought. The way the fenders twisted the light and reflected the road, the way every driver became anonymous. The sight of them knocked his heartbeat askew.
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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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I tried to picture her in a class, any class, anywhere on campus, and failed miserably. I pictured her frolicking in a forest glade around some guy she'd just sacrificed to a heathen god. That image worked way better.
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It was the way she felt when she looked at the stars.
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It's a bomb. Just like you.
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The world needs more love at first sight.
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What do you mean? Grace Brisbane, you do not mean that you're not going back home again. Tell me that this was just because you were momentarily angry at them for grounding you. Or even tell me it's because you could not live without The Boy's stunning Boyfruits for another night. But don't tell me you think it's forever!
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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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But love isn't quantifiable on paper.
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