Quotes by Maggie Stiefvater

People shout when they dont have the vocabulary to whisper.

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.

Because it wasnt merely that the trees were speaking to them. It was that the trees themselves were sentient beings, capable of watching their movements. Was it only the trees in this strange wood, or did every tree observe their movements? Had they always been trying to speak to them? There was no way of knowing, either, if the trees were good of bad, if they lived or hatred humans, if they had principles or compassion. They were like aliens, Gansey thought. Aliens that we have treated very badly for a very long time.

i want to remember

Past conversations were slowly realigning in Blues head, taking on new shades of meaning as they did.

She tried to ignore that, this close to the man, he had the overpowering chemical scent of a manly shower gel. That sort that normally came in a black bottle and was called something like SHOCK or EXCITE or BLUNT TRAUMA.

Its 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!

Its a strange thing, to be talked about instead of talked to.

I saw myself as an outsider as a teen. I was home-schooled and got my G.E.D. when I was 16 I wasnt interested in high school at all and figured that college might be more entertaining.

When I was a teen, I thought I would have to choose between my writing or my music or my art, but it turns out its a difficult juggling game but I can do all of them.

Im very easily distracted unless I have music on. Listening to music while I brainstorm makes me think of scenes that would fit the mood of the music Im playing.

My parents were very permissive when it came to animals. As long as we earned the money to buy them and built whatever structure it was they were going to live in, we could have any kind of pet we wanted. They would have let us have a rhinoceros if we could have afforded it.

“We almost always can point to that hundredth blow, but we dont always mark the ninety-nine other things that happen before we change.”

“We were so little when you took away all our sins.”

“What are you wishing for? Grace interrupted. To kiss you, I said to her.”

“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.”

“I could have screamed, but I didnt. I could have fought, but I didnt. I just lay there and let it happen, wathcing the winter-white sky go gray above me. One wolf prodded his nose into my hand and agianst my cheek, casting a shadow along my face. His yellow eyes looked into mine as the other wolves moved me this way and that. I held onto those eyes for as long as I could. Yellow. And, up close, flecked brillantly with every shade of gold and hazel. I didnt want him to look away, and he didnt. I wanted to reach out and grab a hold of his ruff, but my hands stayed curled to my chest, my arms frozen to my body. I couldnt remember what it felt like to be warm. Then he was gone, without him, the other wolves closed in, too close, sufficating. Something seemed too flutter in my chest. There was no sun; there was no light. I was dying. I couldnt remember what the sky looked like. But I didnt die, I was lost in a sea of cold, and then I was reborn into a sea of warmth. I remember this: his yellow eyes. I thought I would never see them again.”

“Youre asking me to define an abstract concept that no one has managed to explain since time began. You sort of sprang it on me, Gansey said. Why do we breathe air? Because we love air? Because we dont want to suffocate. Why do we eat? Because we dont want to starve. How do I know I love her? Because I can sleep after I talk to her. Why?”

“his yellow eyes gazed at me possessively -- I wondered if he realized that the way he looked at me was far more intimate than copping a feel could ever be.”

“Sam came around the side of the car and stopped dead when he saw me. “Oh my God, what is THAT?” I used my thumb and middle finger to flick the multicolored pom-pom on top of my head. “In my language, we call it a HAT. It keeps my ears warm.” “Oh my God,” Sam said again, and closed the distance between us. He cupped my face in his hands and studied me. “It’s horribly cute.” He kissed me, looked at the hat, and then he kissed me again. I vowed never to lose the pom-pom hat.”