Again and Again, however, we know the language of love, and the little churchyard with its lamenting names and the staggeringly secret abyss in which others find their end: again and again the two of us go out under the ancient trees, make our bed again and again between the flowers, face to face with the skies
If that moment had been a real thing, it would've been a butterfly, flapping and fluttering toward the sun.
She was past present future. I wanted to answer, but I was broken.
Are you sure you want to go out with someone with that kind of history? ...He could have a psychotic break. I read that people get those when they're twenty-eight.
I'm trying to make you think I'm a decent person. Telling you I saw you naked while I was another species does not help my case
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.
Books are more real when you read them outside.
It is possible to be in love with you just because of who you are.
The world needs more love at first sight.
Face flushed, I shook my head and stared at my white-knuckled grip on the bed. Of all my pet peeves, condescending adults were probably at the top of the list.
It was as if I had thought all along I was a complete picture and he had revealed I was a puzzle and had taken me apart and put me back together again.
There was no sun; there was no light. I was dying. I couldn't remember what the sky looked like. But I didn't die. I was lost to a sea of cold, and then I was reborn into a world of warmth.
Grace reached over and began stroking her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and let her drive me crazy.
It was exactly what I wanted-beautiful distraction.
This is Rilke. I wish I had written it for you.
Grace: The idea was immediately unbearable, only because I wanted it to be true so badly it hurt
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.
Your hair is all funky in the morning.
Hello, Grace's parents. I'm Grace's boyfriend. Please notice the chaste distance between us. I am very responsible and have never had my tongue in your daughter's mouth.
It's all you think about, all you talk about, and all you want us to talk about. What in the world would we call something like that? Oh, yeah! An obsession!
You're beautiful and sad. Just like your eyes. You're like a song I heard when I was a little kid but forgot I knew until I heard it again.
His lips tasted cool and sharp, peppermint, winter, but his hands, soft on the back of my neck, promised long days and summer and forever.
It's rude to stare, but the great thing about staring at a sedated person is that they don't know you're doing it.
I could just barely see the dark curve of his shoulder, and something about the shape it made, the gesture it suggested, filled me with a sort of fierce, awful affection.
Mercy Falls was all about rumors, and the rumor on Jack was that he got his short fuse from his dad. I didn't know about that. It seemed like you ought to pick the sort of person you would be, no matter what your parents were like.
I remember lying in the snow, a small red spot of warm going cold, surrounded by wolves.
My wolf was a cute guy and he was holding my hand. I could die happy.
I remembered the pain as clearly as if I were shifting - the pain of loss. I felt the agony of the single moment that I lost myself. Lost what made me Sam. The part of me that could remember Grace's name.
One happy day for every falling leaf you catch. Sam's voice was low.
I was born with these eyes. I was born for this life.
One thousand brilliant stars punched holes in my consciousness, pricking me with longing. I could stare at the stars for hours, their infinite number and depth pulling me into a part of myself that I ignored during the day.
I was suddenly struck by how dissimilar we were. It occurred to me that if Grace and I were objects, she would be an elaborate digital clock, synced up with the World Clock in London with technical perfection, and I'd be a snow globe - shaken memories in a glass ball.
Peppermint swirled into my nostrils, sharp as glass, then raspberry almost to sweet, like too-ripe fruit. Apple, crisp and pure. Nuts, buttery, warm, earthy
I was wild and tame and pulled into shreds and crushed into being all at once.
Sam: Hope hurt more than the cold.
I wasn't sure if I was charmed by his reluctance to share a bed with a girl or insulted that, apparently, I wasn't hot enough for him to charge the mattress like a bull.
Sam: I wanted to answer, but I was broken.
I would say that by virtue of your not acting parental up to this point, you've relinquished your ability to wield any power now. Sam and I are together. It's not an option.
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.
More Maggie Stiefvater Quotations (Based on Topics)
World - Winter - Faces - Life - Death & Dying - Parents - Hell - Future - Medicine & Medical - Fathers - People - Cars - Night - Books - Hair - Memory - Sadness - Perfection - Happiness - View All Maggie Stiefvater Quotations
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