I had this feeling that he and I , in this moment, were a car crash, and instead of putting on the brakes, I was hitting the accelerator.
Maggie StiefvaterI just looked at her, feeling utterly empty. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say to her. My life is in that bed. Please let me stay.
Maggie StiefvaterMots clés pain love loss grief separation shiver linger
I could have screamed, but I didn't. I could have fought, but I didn't. 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 didn't want him to look away, and he didn't. 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 couldn't 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 couldn't remember what the sky looked like. But I didn't 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.
Maggie StiefvaterI 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
Maggie StiefvaterOh my God. What in—”
I was going to be killed by two generations of beautiful women. While naked.
“Mom,” Isabel snapped, interrupting. “Do you mind not staring? It’s totally perv.
But by blood, no wolf am I
Maggie StiefvaterDo you feel better?” I asked Sam as he opened the door to the Volkswagen for me.
“Yes,” he said. He was still a terrible liar.
“Good,” I said. I was still a fantastic one.
Mots clés grace-brisbane sam-roth
you just can't wait to get out of your head, can you?"
"if you were in here you might want that too.
Mots clés sam-roth cole-st-clair
Are you alone?"
So that's what this call was about. For some reason, the question made my throat tighten. "No," I said, "Elvis is here. Would you like to talk to him?
All these perfect days, made of glass
Put on the shelf where they can cast
perfect shadows that stretch and grow
on the imperfect days down below.
... perfect shadows that shift and glow...
... perfect shadows that shift and grow..."
"Sam singing on page 256 of Linger.
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