Maggie Stiefvater
Maggie Stiefvater
Maggie Stiefvateris an American writer of Young Adult fiction. She currently lives in Virginia...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth18 November 1981
CityHarrisonburg, VA
CountryUnited States of America
girl bulls bed
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.
hands grace
My hand aching because grace wasn't underneath it 3!
past moon hands
I laughed, loud enough that Delia looked up at me. She made motions for me to come over, but I pretended to be looking past her into the food tent. "Hurry. Pretend you're pointing something out so I can pretend not to see her." Luke put a hand on my shoulder and pointed with the other towards the sky. "Look, the moon." "That was the best you could come up with?" I demanded.
waiting want might
you just can't wait to get out of your head, can you?" "if you were in here you might want that too.
girl summer boys
and i am a boy waiting-for the heat and fruitfulness of summer,waiting to see who will walk out of those woods for me. Waiting for my lovely summer girl
looks shifting monsters
look, getting bitten doesn't make you into a monster. It just makes you a wolf. You are what you are. When you're a wolf, or when you're shifting, you don't have human inhibitions, so if you're naturally angry or violent, you get worse.
two people felt
I felt like I was watching the transfomation of two people: Victor to wolf, and Cole to someone else. I was the only one here, staying the same.
tired men doors
I tired the back door -- unlocked. Truley the Man Upstairs was smiling down on me.
i-loved-you sam-roth
I loved you so much right then Sam Roth.
memories glasses snow
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.
hurt escaping skins
sloughing my skin / escaping it's grip / stripped of my wit / it hurts to be me .
memories singing scent
the intermittent breeze carried her scent to me again and again , singing in another language of memories from another form .
miles thousand stills
and i was right here , almost right within reach , but still one thousand mile away
goodbye saying-goodbye way
is this fragile love/ a way/ to say/ goodbye