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Fate,” Blue replied, glowering at her mother, “is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfast.

Maggie Stiefvater
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It's a strange thing, to be talked about instead of talked to.
Maggie Stiefvater
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!
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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.
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Past conversations were slowly realigning in Blue's head, taking on new shades of meaning as they did.
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i want to remember
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Because it wasn't 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.
Maggie Stiefvater
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.
Maggie Stiefvater
People shout when they don't have the vocabulary to whisper.
Maggie Stiefvater
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