You could write a book about things that you can't find online.
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.
My parents had always been so careful with me, until the day they decided I needed to die.
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.
No, you have to talk first. You wanted to talk. It means you say something and I respond and you talk back again. It's one of the human race's most shining achievements. It's called a conversation.
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.
Not dead-dying. Funny how two things could be so similar and yet so far apart
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.
Now I am the unknown, the unknowable.
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.
Right now, it's hard to imagine that it is raining anywhere in the world.
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.
Rilke says: Verweilung, auch am Verstrautesten nicht, ist uns gegeben - We are not allowed to linger, even with what is most intimate.
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.
Sharing revelations is easier when it doesn't matter.
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.
She leaned toward me, offering her neck, and I kissed her just behind her ear.
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.
So here's my theory, and this is such crap science, I don't have to tell you. It's science without microscopes, blood tests, or reality.
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.
Somewhere fate laughs in her far-off country, because now I am the human and it is Grace I will lose again and again, immer wieder, always the same, every winter, losing more of her each year, unless I find a cure.
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.
There was nothing particularly special about her, except that she was good with numbers, and very good at lying, and she made her home in between the pages of books.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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
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.
More Maggie Stiefvater Quotations (Based on Topics)
World - Winter - Parents - Hell - Future - Medicine & Medical - Fathers - People - Cars - Night - Books - Hair - Memory - Sadness - Perfection - Faces - Life - Death & Dying - Joy & Excitement - View All Maggie Stiefvater Quotations
More Maggie Stiefvater Quotations (By Book Titles)
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