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This object that we hold in our hands, a book... that tactile pleasure, it's just not going to go away.

Maggie Stiefvater

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Maggie Stiefvater
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: November 18
Novelist
Writer
Harrisonburg
Virginia
Away
Hands
Book
Going
Tactile
Object
Objects
Hold
Pleasure

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When Gansey was polite, it made him powerful. When Adam was polite, he was giving power away.
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It was the perfect moment to tell her. This is my last year. But I couldn’t say it. Not yet. I wanted another minute, another hour, another night of pretending this wasn’t the end.
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I'm so tired I never want to wake up again. But I've figured out now that it was never them that made me feel that way. It was just me, all along.
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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 turned back to my extracurricular study of death and disease. Because no matter what Grace thought, I knew that in Mercy Falls, it's never over
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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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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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My chest ached, my body speaking a language my head didn't quite understand. I waited. But Grace, the only person in the world I wanted to know me, just ran a wanting finger over the cover of one of the new hardcovers and walked out of the store without ever realising I was there, right within reach.
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When he kissed me, his lips soft and careful, it was all the thrill of our first kiss and all the practiced familiarity of the accumulated memory of all our kisses.
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Every third step I ran, my breath exploded out of me all in a rush. One step to suck in another cold lungful. One step to let it excape. One step of not breathing.
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The fact was, I didn't know if I was built for happy endings.
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To Grace, these were the things that mattered: my hands on her cheeks, my lips on her mouth. The fleeting touches that meant I loved her.
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Grace, who haunted my thoughts when I couldn’t dream
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I like you better this way. For some reason, admitting this made her face go hot right away she was very glad that he still had his face pressed into his pillow and the other boys were still in Noah's room. Crushed and broken, Gansey said. Just the way women like 'em.
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Sam reached his hand toward mine and I automatically put my fingers in his.
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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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We are shoulder to shoulder due to the size of the cab, and if Gratton is made of flour and potatoes, Sean is made of stone and driftwood and possibly those prickly anemones that sometimes wash up on shore.
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I sense that his drowning but I don't have any idea of how to start to put my hand into the water and save him.
Maggie Stiefvater
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There's no such thing as a good book or a bad book. There's a book that matters to a reader.
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It's very ugly' I said generously. 'But it looks as though it would laugh at snow. And, if you hit a deer it would hiccup, and keep going.
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